


This is where it splits in half, honey, love or death (grab an end, pull hard and make a wish)

by sechenitis



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: ...sort of, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Character Deaths, F/F, F/M, Jongdae centric, M/M, Murder, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 09:51:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 102,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8974873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sechenitis/pseuds/sechenitis
Summary: It's the butterfly effect: something blows up somewhere, and consequences swoop down on the rest of the world. Jongdae is left doing everything he can to survive until it takes everything from him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> can also be found on my livejournal: http://januarys-lovers.livejournal.com/8994.html  
> written for Chenpionships' 2k15 round  
> title comes from Richard Siken's Wishbone

Jongdae opens his eyes to faint colors painting the ceiling. There's an arm over his waist, and soft snoring breaking the silence, but Jongdae mostly pays attention to the pastel show above his head. He closes one eye, and pink displays in front of him, like warmer northern lights sparkling on the plaster. He closes his left eye and opens the right, and the pink turns into a mellow orange with a hint of flaming gold. He closes both of them, and the colors printed on the back of his eyelids couldn't be any more different. Crimson red and muddy brown swirl on his retinas, thick and slow like blood, and Jongdae tastes the ferrous taste that comes with it on the tip of his tongue. 

He opens his eyes. 

The sun is beginning its course down towards the horizon line, but one quick glance to his watch tells him he still has a bit of time before the night comes into play. His heart is beating slowly in his chest, mesured and under control, and it keeps the adrenaline at bay. He's done it many times before, but he knows better than to rush and take it all for granted. The world has become so unbalanced that a single stumble sends you over the edge. And then you're done. It takes one second to end a life, and Jongdae hasn't survived all this time to die just because he's been careless for a heartbeat. The day he'll let monsters catch him, it'll be with a loud bang that will blow up everything -and eyeryone- around him, he'll make sure of that. Until then, he'll keep surviving. 

He glances at Luhan, still fast asleep next to him, and gently grabs his wrist. He folds Luhan's arm and puts it back on the latter's chest before slipping out of bed, tiptoeing across the room to gather his clothes. He slips into his pants, stopping every two seconds to throw a cautious look at Luhan, heart flying up his chest everytime the wooden floor cracks. _You're almost there Jongdae_ , he internally chants to himself as he grabs his shirt. He considers it for a short second, face scrunching up with disgust as he takes in the dirt, the holes and the smell it radiates, before throwing it away and putting on Luhan's instead. It's a quick decision, everything is, so much that his thoughts snap in his head, whip lashes against his skull. Jongdae can't remember a time when thoughts were there for conscience and morals, when they sounded a little like his mother's voice, and were made of words.

Shoes on and backpack on his shoulders, Jondgae considers the room from where he's sitting on the edge of the window. His left leg is already outside, dangling in tempo with the seconds passing by. He frowns, eyeing Luhan's sleeping figure, the sharpness of his muscles and the web of veins on his hands and arms. Jongdae sighs, sligthly deflating as he goes back into the bedroom, not even blinking as Luhan fills his vision. He walks to the bed, almost silently despite the thickness of his soles, and finally stops right before Luhan. 

The older man's eyebrows are furrowed, but he still looks fast asleep with his lips slightly parted on slow and regular low snores. Jongdae leans down, and slides his palm under Luhan's pillow. He moves it inches by inches, his eyes glued to Luhan's face, and by the time his fingers finally close on the object of his desire, his eyes are tearing up with the lack of blinking. One second of inattention, that's all it takes. 

It feels like hours later when he finally pulls out the book from under the pillow. Pink and orange are still painting the walls though, even settling on Luhan's face, matching with his natural beauty, so there is still time. Another quick glance at his watch, and Jongdae hurries to the window again. He steps over its edge without any hesitation this time, and shoves the book into his backpack as he tiptoes on the eaves. Most people sleep with guns or knives under their pillows, but not Luhan. With his minions filling the house, ready to give their lives for their leader, he doesn't risk much. Luhan won't miss his book, and he wouldn't even have fully appreciated it anyway. Someone who bosses people around and has bodyguards sleeping on the wooden floor behind their bedroom door can't possibly enjoy great authors like Stephen King. Luhan would have missed half of the story, so really, Jongdae probably did him a favour in the end. 

As for the ammo and the food he stole from Luhan and his minions, it's another story. 

Jongdae makes sure the surroundings are safe before letting himself fall from the eaves. Travelling by day is dangerous, but the hour of daylight left will help him get a head start over Luhan's gang. He wouldn't even stand two minutes in close combat against Luhan, or any of his 'friends'. Jongdae usually fights with other weapons, obviously. He scratches the recent hickeys in his neck, the sensitive spots making his skin itchy and reaches inside his bag. His fingers close around a fragile and small tube that he pulls out. His blood has been getting hot inside of it, and its thick aspect makes Jongdae want to throw up. Disgusted, he opens the tube and pours the blood on the house's front steps, careful not to have the slighest drop splashing on his shoes. The smell assaults his nose, reminding him of crimson red and muddy brown patches on the back of his eyelids. He has to fight himself not to gulp down one of his water bottles to clean his tongue from the strong ferrous taste flooding his mouth. Now that the blood is out, he'll leave in less than a minute anyway. 

Jongdae stretches his arm and turns the front door's doorknob. He waits after the slight _click!_ , frozen and on the lookout for the smallest sound inside the house, but nothing comes. He leaves the door slightly opened, and jumps over the front steps. This will help kepping Luhan's team busy even more, and Jongdae—well, Jongdae will be out of their reach when they'll finally be able to hunt him down. 

Him, and their supplies, ammos, and Luhan's book. Oh, and Luhan's shirt too.

 

 

The last sparks of sunlight feel like a knife grazing Jongdae's Adam Apple, and he has to restrain himself from running as fast as he can. It wouldn't be safe, because falling can happen so fast and the last thing he needs now is hurting himself and _bleeding_. It's one thing to know it though, and another to struggle against all his instincts screaming at him to run for shelter. Jongdae tries to avoid travelling by day as much as possible, they all do -he briefly wonders how many of them _they_ stands for now- but Jongdae couldn't have run from Luhan's gang any other way. He's done it before, he reminds himself, and he's still alive. All he has to do is keep quiet, move and be careful. The sun is setting down, exploding in burning flames all over the sky above his head, and it'll be dark in no more than two hours now. _You've done it before_ , he tells himself another time, like a mantra supposed to keep the nasty spirits at bay. 

Nature has reassserted herself over the world, finally back at the top of the food chain. It had started with shy grass tufts falling over each side of the roads, as if they were testing the waters, but it was already long ago, or so it seems for Jongdae. The roads are now nibbled by the shadows thrown over them by long and knotted branches linked in some kind of roof above Jongdae's head, and the sight would be nice, if not for how suffocating it feels. They were so sure they were controlling the world back then, but it turned out that nature herself is as merciless as they were, and in the silence that has swallowed up the whole world, Jongdae can almost hear the trees growing up and taking more space, tiptoeing with sinister cracks towards places they couldn't reach before. At least, it means that something is still alive, still growing, and it's a small consolation prize, but it's one that Jongdae values: just like they weren't destructive enough to wipe out trees and grass from the surface of the earth, what's left of human kind, still sane and struggling or groaning and ripping flesh apart, won't win that battle against Mother Earth. In the end, they will all end as fertilizer and food for worms, immunes and infected.

Jongdae adjusts his backpack strip on his shoulder, scanning the forest left and right, and trying to hear everything that is not silence in the heavy stillness around him. He's so focused on the slighest sound -the wind ruffling through the leaves, his own breathing, his footsteps- that the sudden scream tearing the quietness has him startling with a gasp. He stops dead in his tracks and narrows his eyes at the trees on his left—where the sound came from. It's hard to believe it was silent not even ten seconds ago with the ruckus now echoing through the forest. Branches are cracking, gunshots are fired and people are screaming, begging. Jongdae stays in the silent part of the world, forcing himself to look away. There's nothing he can do except clenching his right fingers harder on his machete, and grabbing his gun with his free hand, hoping he's far enough not to stumble into another pack attracted by the slaughter and the heavy smell of blood. 

_Blood_. Jongdae's heart jumps straight into the back of his throat. Is it possible that those are the Infected he was hoping to attract with the blood he splattered on the front steps of Luhan's shelter? Jongdae can tell they were heading towards the house, and they could have run into a clan on their way there. It doesn't change a thing though, Jongdae isn't a hero, he can't run over there, behead a few monsters and save everyone. He was a barman before the world and its rules got flushed down the universe's toilet, not a soldier or someone who had the slighest knowledge about weapons and martial arts. He's been stealing to survive, sometimes flashing white expenses of skin when it could help him. He's nothing like a hero, but it's a thing to unleash the Infected on Luhan and his gang, and another to cause the death of maybe a dozen of innocent people. What were they doing in broad daylight, anyway? 

A few branches crack closer, jerking him out of his thoughts, and Jondgae breathes in a sharp intake of air. Adrenaline floods him, drowns him in instinctive decisions too fast for him to register them, and he quickly turns over and starts running. 

It's not long before he hears someone running behind him, and the absence of jaws clicking and chattering over his shoulder tells him it's not an Infected. He doesn't slow down though, determined to put as much distance as possible between him and the pack of Infected, with or without the fast runner. So fast, actually, that the boy -because he doesn't look older than twenty years old?- is now running at his level, long limbs threatening to overtake Jongdae any minute now. 

“Faster,” he urges Jongdae although he's obviously struggling to breathe, and finally reaches to grab Jongdae's hand. 

The latter's pulls away, glaring at the boy whose naturally arched eyebrows shot up in surprise, before frowning with determination. He slows down to remain at Jongdae's level and glances over his shoulder to check if they are followed. Jongdae quickly imitates him, not trusting the boy a bit, and doesn't allow relief to slow him down even when he doesn't catch anything following them. They're still pretty close, still in danger, and running is all that matters now. 

He catches the boy glancing with want at the forest on their right, and before he can stop himself, Jongdae furiously shakes his head, throwing his elbow against the boy's ribs to make sure he gets the message. Sure, the trees would help them shake off whoever -or whatever- could be following them, but they'll end up trapped in their own trick, unable to see further than the end of their noses. Night or not, the Infected won't let them go that easily if they are indeed behind them, and Jongdae's not willing to hand himself over on a silver plate. 

Jongdae's gesture has obviously surprised the boy, who is now trying to catch his gaze, but Jongdae stubbornly avoids it. He shouldn't have elbowed the runner, should have just let him head into the forest, but maybe if he ignores him now, the boy will take the hint and turns right. It doesn't happen though, and although the boy stops trying to meet his eyes after a while, he still runs close to Jongdae, their legs now synchronized as they swallow meter after meter. Sweat is sliding down Jongdae's spine, gluing his bangs on his forehead and wetting his eyelashes until his eyes burn at the salty intrusion. He tries to take longer strides, to hop up and down more than he runs in the hope that it will reduce the burning sensation of his soles crashing against the asphalt and meeting the heat of the early summer days sticking down there. It doesn't, of course, but Jongdae quickly forgets the sliding of his feet in his slightly too large shoes in favor of the lack of air in his lungs and the black spots it's leaving in his vision. The boy running beside him huffs and puffs, grunting at the effort, but doesn't stop either, and they welcome the night and slightly cooler temperatures with fire licking at their muscles.

“You... please... stop... please,” the boy finally breathes out, his tan skin shining with a silver shade under the shy moonlight. 

Jongdae barely spares him a glance as he speeds up, his body roaring at him at the effort. Adrenaline has left him an hour ago, but he's kept running because fear is an even more powerful doping substance, and Jongdae was running low on feelings of power, but he'll never get short on scary things. Like mud brown and thick crimson red painting the back of his eyelids, or the ferrous taste of blood turning his tongue into lead, like nature being beautiful and almighty and slowly covering what's left of human kind.

The boy stops running, and he takes in a sharp intake of air, as if he was drowning the second before. Jongdae looks over his shoulder and sees him bending, his hands shaking on his knees as he tries to catch his breath, his breathing erratic and whistling. Darkness engulfs him, closing its fangs on the lines of his slender silhouette first, and finally swallows him whole as Jongdae keeps running. He thinks about the few drops of his own blood splattered on the front steps of Luhan's house, and his body reacts before his mind, forcing him to turn around. 

“Fuck,” he groans as he stops dead in his tracks. He pulls out his machete from his leather belt and trots back to the boy. 

Alerted by the sounds of his footsteps, the boy straightens, his face breaking into a million-watt beam that quickly turns into a frown when Jongdae presses his blade against his throat. 

“Are you hurt?” he asks, sharply, and the boy's frown deepens. 

“What?”

“Hurt!” Jongdae repeats, trying to control the loud beating of his heart and his lungs swallowing in as much air as they can to keep a steady hand around his machete. “Are you hurt, are you bleeding?” he hurries the boy. 

A flash of understanding goes through the latter's eyes, and he immediately shakes his head, raising his palms to prove his good faith. Jongdae's eyes narrow at him. 

“Do you have any weapons?”

The boy sizes him cautiously before nodding shortly, pointing at his belt. 

“Just a knife,” he says with his soft nasal voice. He doesn't sound as breathless as Jongdae anymore. “My clan and I, we got attacked. I ran without trying to gather my stuff.” 

Jongdae wets his lips, his taste buds immediately reacting to the salty taste left by the perspiration, and the chappings on his lips burning even more with his saliva. He hesitates, only a short second, and steps up to body search the boy. He doesn't look as young this close, as the pale moonlight showcases his features in a different way. He has plump lips and a strong jaw, and the soft bump on the bridge of his nose stands out chiseled and sharper under the shadows. Jongdae expects some protests when he grabs the boy's knife and slides it between his belt and hipbone, but the boy flashes him a little smile instead. Jongdae snorts and makes sure his machete is still very threatening against the soft skin of the boy's neck before palming down the latter's pants. 

“My name's Jongin,” the boy informs him.

“I don't care what your name is,” Jongdae groans. He steps back, his streched arm and the blade of his machete reflecting the moonlight still between him and the boy—Jongin. “Take off your shoes,” he orders. 

Jongin nods, and immediately sits down on the lukewarm concrete to pull off his boots. Jongdae glances around them, his muscles itching to get going again despite the aftermath of their early run still burning them. Jongdae has seen some Infected wander in the dead of night before, and even though dark hours are usually safer, it's better to stay on the go. He looks down at Jongin and grabs his boots one after the other to check them. Jongin lets him do so, even pulling off his sockets to wriggle his toes at Jongdae, an eye smile threatening to take over his face. Jongdae glares at him, throwing his boots at him. 

“Put them back on,” he snaps, and takes a few steps back for safety before sliding his machete back into his belt. 

He warily eyes Jongin as the latter immediately obliges, pouting when he pulls his sockets back over the blisters his toes are sporting. He honestly doesn't look very dangerous, but Jongdae knows better. Most of the people he met probably thought the same thing about him, and all of them are surely regretting it now. Jongin is taller than him, with taut muscles pressing against the light material of his clothes. He moves as quickly as they all do but without any staccato, as if he was sliding in the air instead of cutting it with his body, and in a world as ugly as theirs, grace is a weapon. Grace can kill. 

Jongdae takes another step back for good measure, and decides to put their stop at good use. He slides his bag on his shoulder and ruffles inside to find one of his bottles. He glances at Jongin again before opening it and gulping down three longs sips of water. The faint taste of bleach isn't as unpleasant as the temperature of the water flooding his mouth -summer is definitely fast approaching- but all in all, it washes away the dryness and the feeling of sandpaper rubbing against his tongue every time he breathes in. When he pulls away the bottle and looks back at Jongin, the latter is watching him expectantly, his eyes following the bottle in Jongdae's hand. He really doesn't look like a war machine like that, standing in the middle of the road with his long arms awkwardly dangling on his sides as he wets his lips, but more like a boy who grew up too fast. Jongdae shields himself against the hint of softness he can see on the boy's cheeks, as if his baby fat was still there a few weeks ago, and sends him a dark look. 

“What?” 

Jongin looks mildly embarrassed as he shrugs. 

“Like I said, I had to leave without my stuff...” he trails on. 

Jongdae narrows his eyes at the boy, only realising then that Jongin doesn't have a backpack or anything that looks remotely like it, and internally groans. He took a big risk with Luhan and his mercenaries, but what he stole them can last him a couple of months, and that was his only motive. Sharing with Jongin will reduce his efforts to nothing.

 _Yeah_ , a voice tells him, bitting and snarky. _But if you hadn't chosen to fuck Luhan up in the ass today, Jongin would still be happily drinking his own water._

Jongdae sighs and throws his bottle at Jongin who catches it middair with a huge grin.

 

 

“It was kind of a happy coincidence that you were there, don't you think?” Jongin says a couple of hours later. “I haven't seen an Immune in like two months or so, and the minute I get separated from my group, _pop_ you're there.”

Jongdae snorts. He saw a lots of Immune in the past two months, and Jongin should consider himself lucky he hasn't met one for so long. He doesn't say it aloud though, not wanting Jongin to feel like he wants to engage a conversation. He has to give the boy some credit though, because he's seen him glancing repeatedly at him for the past two hours, mouth opening on its own on questions he was probably dying to ask to finally close around his growing frustration. Jongdae expected Jongin to snap earlier, but two hours is a pretty decent amount of time. Doesn't mean he's going to indulge him, and start chatting though. 

Jongdae has been alone for so long that walking with someone by his side feels weird, almost dangerous. He can control his own breathing, stop when he thinks he hears something and worry about the darkness engulfing his surroundings, but he has no control over Jongin's reactions. He doesn't know if the road on his right is secured or not, because Jongin is walking on his right, nor does he hear something over the sound of Jongin's breathing. Jongdae doesn't like how vulnerable it makes him feel. Jongin is a new addition in a routine that has kept him alive until then, and now that the equation has changed, Jongdae finds himself handling more unknowns than he can control, and he really doesn't like it. 

“Thank you for letting me stay with you,” Jongin finally adds, his voice lower, heavier. Jongdae glances at him, curious because of the change, but he barely makes out Jongin's body lines in the night, so searching for his eyes is useless. 

“We have a rule for situations like these,” Jongin continues. “If we get separated, we're supposed to meet in the last secured place we found.” He pauses. He's hesitating, Jongdae realises. He knows what the boy is about to ask him, and he also knows what _he_ 's going to say. “We're heading in the good direction, and it's like four days from here, but I don't have any food or water, and I've never been alone...”

“I'm not taking you there,” Jongdae cuts him. 

He expects protests, but Jongin doesn't say anything. The atmosphere around them though, moist with the memory of the last spring days, stiffens, and Jongdae can feel Jongin's hard glare on him. 

“We have a lot of food and weapons,” Jongin retorts. His voice has nothing left of hesitation, instead it stabs Jongdae's eardrums with determination. “They'll give you anything you want if you help me.”

Jongdae grabs Jongin by the arm to stop him, and now that they stand closer to each other, what's left of the moonlight once it went through the leaves above their heads finds them and settles shyly on their face. 

“Are you buying my help?” Jongdae asks the other boy. “You don't know me. I would stab you in the back at the first occasion.”

“And you don't know _me_ ,” Jongin retorts. “You act as if I'd let you.”

Jongdae narrows his eyes at him, but Jongin looks unimpressed, now fully putting to use the numerous inches he has over Jongdae to tower him. Jongdae's hand clenches tighter around Jongin's arm, and his other hand hover over the handle of his machete. He's not sure if Jongin caught the gesture because the latter's eyes remain glued to Jongdae's, but they finally soften as he blinks a few times, the line of his shoulders slumping down as he lets out a sigh. 

“Look” he says. “I've been with them since the very beginning, they'll be really grateful if you help me. We even have a few motorbikes, you could take one. We're not like the others, they won't hurt you, I give you my word.

Jongdae snorts. “The others? There are no others, kiddo. Just us, and the Infected. We're all the same, trust me.”

Jongin doesn't answer, but his eyes look at him, pleading and begging. Jongdae is tempted to believe the fact that Jongin has never been alone since it all went crazy because of how genuinely scared he looks right now. He doesn't even try to break free from Jongdae's grip, even leaning closer despite Jongdae's fingers now around his machete. The boy has no food, no water, and Jongdae took his only weapon. Left to his own devices, he would drop dead before reaching the meeting place of his group. But it's nothing more than a few speculations, and it all comes down to one thing in the end. One very simple thing: is Jongdae willing to bet his life on a bunch of assumptions? 

It's the look flashing through Jongin's eyes when the latter starts shrinking on himself that does it. He seems to think that Jongdae will say no, that asking won't help him any more, and he finally breaks the eye contact to glance at the darkness all around them. The natural curve of his eyebrows has been turned upside down as Jongin takes in the road under their shoes and the utter silence, as he obviously struggles against the tears already wetting his eyes. There are no inches left, no determined and strong voice or long and deadly limbs, it's just a boy staring at the world and realising that it has grown fangs and that it will probably swallow him whole after breaking his bones one by one. Jongdae knows how weak the cold realisation is currently leaving Jongin, because he's been there, like everyone. The world doesn't make sense anymore, but somehow, Jongin hadn't fully realised it, and now he's finding himself naked and defenseless before the truth. 

Jongdae sighs. That group of his must have done a pretty good job at protecting him until there. 

“Jongdae,” he says, letting go of Jongin's arm. The latter throws him a questioning look. “My name's Jongdae.”

Jongin's plump lips open on a perfectly silent 'o'. 

“Thank you!” he almost cries out in relief, before wincing and grabbing Jongdae's hand to squeeze it tightly. “Thank you,” he repeats in a whisper. 

Jongdae flashes him the shadow of a smile, pulling his hand away and taking a step back for safety. Jongin doesn't seem a bit bothered by the slight distance between them as he straightens with a smile. 

“So,” he says. “Shall we keep going?”

It's a shame, Jongdae thinks, that someone like Jongin had to be immune, because he's not cut out for the world like it is right now. He would have been better off caught by the airborne virus, and left with nothing more in his brain than a few basic instincts. It's not the most terrible thing to think about the boy, and it actually says a lot about the reality Jongin has to live in from now on. When he sees the trees linking their branches over the roads, he probably thinks it's beautiful while bunny hoping from one spot of light to another. How many times a day does Jongin check his whole body, heart beating erratically in his chest at the mere idea of finding a scratch? He's currently watching Jongdae, waiting for him to take the first step, as if the night was nothing more than a giant sheet of black velvet splattered with tiny but divine lights. Disillusion will catch him sooner or later, and it will rip his flesh apart, literally. 

“Yeah,” Jongdae mumbles. “We need to find a shelter for the day.”

He gets going again, Jongin walking with his kind of dancing gait by his side. It's really not the most terrible thing to say about him, because the most terrible thing is that when rotted teeth will close on fresh flesh, Jongin will be on the wrong end.

At least, he does check the darkness on their right from time to time.

 

 

Jongdae opens his eyes to black weighing on him, and light flooding his peripheral vision. He's immediately attacked by a peak of panic, and his mind still hazy after a few hours of sleep only reacts in reflexes. His hand flies to grab the machete lying next to his waist, where it's easier to catch. It never gets there though, since his knuckles crash against something solid and unexpected. The pain thumping along his heart finishes to wake him up, and Jongdae remembers where he is with a groan. 

He crawls out from under the bed, and quickly brings his hand closer to his face, allowing himself a sigh of relief when he sees the skin starting to bruise already, but no sign of blood tainting his knuckles. It was a stupid move, but at least he hasn't hurt himself. Just to make sure though, he walks on all fours towards the window and risks a glance outside. He doesn't catch anything that would suggest the presence of Infected, and they're usually quite loud, so it's all clear. Unless a lone Infected is hunting them right now, but without a pack, they're so easy to kill it's almost laughable. Jongdae doesn't make the mistake to feel safe though -he hasn't been in a over year- but he allows himself to breathe more easily.

He slides his machete back into his belt and gets back on his feet to reach the door. It's still locked like he's left it when he and Jongin reached the house early this morning. Incidentally, Jongin is the reason why Jongdae slept under the bed. He usually takes other precautions that at least allow him to enjoy a few hours of restorative sleep on a real mattress, but with the younger male sticking to his side, he couldn't be sure Jongin wouldn't attack him during the day. If so, he would have gone straight to the bed and found nothing inside, this way giving Jongdae a few precious seconds to wake up and fight back.

Jongdae refuses to dwell on the relief washing over him when it becomes obvious that Jongin didn't try anything while he was sleeping, and decides to take it as happiness to get to live through another day in hell. What a total blast.

He unlocks the door, and almost trips over a limp form curled up on the threshold of the bedroom. Jongin wakes up with a start, brandishing his fists in the emptiness before him with eyes hooded by sleep. 

“What's going on,” he half-yawns, trying to look as threatening as possible. He blinks a few times, and perks his head up towards Jongdae, frowning. “Jongdae?” 

Jongdae takes in the blankets arranged in a makeshift bed, Jongin's long limbs still tangled in the sheets and the latter's sleepy, swollen face, and the absurdity of it all has him chuckling. He's spent the night on the wooden floor under a bed, afraid that Jongin would come and cut his throat open in his sleep, while said Jongin was curling up against the door, like a puppy in the search of the warmth of his master. Jongin has made sure to keep a few steps between the two of them throughout the whole night, and Jongdae didn't have to step back a single time, but Jongin is obviously not as nonchalant about it as he made it look the night before. 

Jongdae presses a palm against the wall for balance as he tries to no avail to muffle his chuckles, and Jongin shoots him a look somewhere between a glare and an embarrassed plea. 

“I don't see what's so funny,” he mumbles. “You could have hurt me. What if I had bled, uh?” 

“I would have left you behind and run for my life,” Jongdae snorts with a smile. It's not even half a lie, but he pretends it's nothing more than a joke. Jongin doesn't wince, only glares at him harder. “There are three other bedrooms though, you were the one being careless.”

Jongin finally gets back on his feet, the faintest hint of a blush still grazing his cheeks. 

“I usually sleep with my friend, and it felt weird being alone,” he snaps back, pouting.

It's the first time Jongdae sees him in broad daylight and without any death threats running after them, but this Jongin isn't much different than the one he remembers. He's still the embodiment of paradoxes, with his slender silhouette, light and graceful even though he's just woken up, and the pout he's currently sporting from under too long bangs. He looks at Jongdae like Jongdae is the taller one, all broad shoulders and taut muscles ready to be used, but round cheeks matching with his nervous fidgeting. All in all, it's the only thing that finally stops Jongdae's chuckles, even though after so much time without laughing he was only starting to remember how nice it is, because there's nothing funny in the way Jongin is swinging his body left to right. 

“Come on,” Jongdae groans, suddenly in a dark mood. “Get in there, you're going to show me your so-called meeting place on a map.”

Jongdae turns around and walks back into the room, grabbing his backpack on his way to the bed, Jongin on his trail. He puts his bag on the unmade bed, and rummages through it while Jongin curiously eyes the sheets carefully tucked on each side of the mattress. If he draws any conclusion from it, his face doesn't show, nor does he ask anything, soon back at watching Jongdae with the shadow of a smile perched on his lips. The latter finally closes his fingers on the stack of papers he was looking for, and he pulls it out of his bag with a satisfied groan. He unfolds it on the bed, displaying the whole territory of China in all its hugeness, with hundreds of tiny red characters showing cities and villages, and intricate and endless blue lines for the roads. Jongdae took it a few month ago when he reached China, in a tiny motel probably there only to welcome tourists, thus explaining the hangeul splattered all over the map. When he'll leave China, it'll be harder to find maps written in Korean, but Jongdae will have to do with English. If he does get to walk out of China, of course. 

It takes him only a few seconds to spot their position, and he points it at Jongin. 

“We're here,” he informs him. “Where do we have to go?”

Jongin leans down to take a closer look at the map, frowning. He bites his lip, and presses his finger index on a name, a few miles above their current position. 

“You sure?” Jongdae asks him, and Jongin nods. “Well, that's definitely _not_ four days from here. It'll take us six to seven days to get there, I think.”

At least, Jongin has the common sense to look embarrassed. He rubs his nape with his large palm, his eyes fleeing from Jongdae's gaze. 

“Yeah...,” he stutters. “I'm sorry. Seulgi's the one in charge of maps in our group. I'm not good at this at all.”

_No kidding._

“And what are you in charge of?” Jongdae asks. 

“Food, mostly. I try to cook when we can, so it'd be a little more appetizing, you know.”

Jongdae shrugs, drawing back his attention on the map. He considers their new goal and the spot where Jongin's group was attacked. 

“Where were you heading?” he says when he realises that Jongin's group was walking east. “Back to Korea?”

Jongin shakes his head and points at the south of Manchuria. 

“Lyushunkou. We heard a radio message, there could be a boat full of survivors there.”

It's Jongdae's turn to shake his head. Lyushunkou had been a pain in the ass to get out of, because a few other groups of Immune caught that same radio message Jongin and his friends heard, and they all ran over there. One attack was enough to attract more Infected, and when they finally reached Lyushunkou, the city turned into a self-serve buffet for them. When Jongdae, attracted by the same hope than everyone before him, got there, so many Infected were still wandering in the streets that it was practically impossible to reach the harbor, let alone walk out of the city afterwards, even by night. He did it though, jumping from one roof to another, but aside from a strong smell of blood and nests of Infected every two meters, there was nothing. 

“I went there,” he tells Jongin. “There were boats, but none of them with survivors inside. I reckon they weren't all immune, and a few of them caught the virus.”

Jongin slowly pulls his finger away from the red dot indicating Lyushunkou. He licks his lips and slowly shrugs. 

“It's okay,” he says. “You'll tell Seulgi, and she'll lead us somewhere else. Probably west, to the European seaside. They were the farthermost countries, they probably had time to organise themselves.”

Jongdae seriously doubts it, but he doesn't tell Jongin. When that research complex exploded in Khabarovsk Krai last year, and the mist spread on hundreds of miles, swallowing Russia's west seaside, China and Japan's northern regions, the whole North Korea and a bit of South Korea as well, no one knew what was happening. Soldiers were sent straight into the thick white and reflecting mist, but none of them came back; as for the satellites, they were useless since they couldn't see through the almost solide looking brume. When it lifted, it was too late because the winds had already carried away the deadliest threat known in human kind history all around the world, and the unfortunate ones caught in the mist were already taking care of the few Immunes there. No one was prepared for _that_. The Misty Virus swooped on every country almost at the same time, rotting the oxygen and then the lungs of those who breathed it to finally reach their brains in less than twenty four hours, and with barely only ten percent of the population immune, no one got the _time_ nor the means to organise themselves. 

Jongin is watching him expectantly, reading Jongdae's silence in all the wrong ways. Jongdae can see the questions taking shape in Jongin's dark chocolate eyes, and he quickly looks away. They still have time before the sunset, and Jongin is the type to use it for bonding, but Jongdae doesn't want to. He doesn't care about Jongin, his group or the life he used to have when they weren't living in a post-apocalyptic movie, and mostly, he's not interested in having Jongin knowing all those things about him. He folds back the map, and pulls out two small bags of chips from his bag. 

“Breakfast,” he says, throwing one of them at Jongin. The latter opens it with a look of pure glee on his face, like a kid on Christmas morning. Jongdae tries not to think about what he risked to steal it from Luhan. 

“More like lunch time,” Jongin retorts with a grin before shoving a handful of chips in his mouth. 

“Whatever,” Jongdae mumbles, putting the map back into his bag. “I'm going to search the house. We'll leave with the last rays of sunshine. Keep quiet in the meanwhile.”

Jongdae slides back his bag on his shoulders and glares at Jongin for good measure, before taking his own bag of chips and walking towards the door. Jongin's eyes follow him, making the skin on his nape itch with discomfort.

“Thanks for the food!” Jongin says, hesitant, just when Jongdae leaves the room. 

Jongdae wants to say that he's only feeding him because Jongin promised he'll get back all the food he gave him in a few days, but he doesn't, and it leaves a knot in his stomach. Jongin hasn't even been with him for twenty four hours yet, and he's already changing so many things Jongdae never wanted to change again. He needs the boy to find back his group, and the sooner the better. 

Jongin stays in the room, away from him, all day long, and Jongdae is really grateful. 

 

 

“How many are you in your group?” Jongdae asks, trying to look oblivious to the pure surprise painting Jongin's face.

He has debated all night long, his thoughts so loud in his head that it overpowered the silence. He's been walking on eggshells since they left the house, after having crashed against Jongin's resigned mutism when he was expecting endless rambling and chattering. Jongdae felt quite relieved then, mind already focused on their surroundings and the chirping of birds, but with the night falling on them, something had started to feel wrong. And the only thing that could go wrong in a world where everything was already so wrong was, well, the newest addition, and that would be Jongin. The latter had walked next to him in utter silence all night long, his long limbs synchronized with Jongdae's smaller strides, and his body carefully keeping the two step safe distance between them. He had been so silent actually, walking with his delicate gait through the night like a ghost, that Jongdae had felt obligated to reach and make sure Jongin was still there by brushing his arm with his fingertips more than once. In all honesty, they were very lucky not to run into some Infected, because Jongdae had been so distracted that it would have most surely killed them. And that's exactly why Jongdae decided to break the silence first, instead of keeping squinting through the thick darkness to try and read Jongin's expression—especially when the darkness all _around_ them was the one he should have tried to see through. 

“Well,” Jongin starts, voice still a little unsure. “We were fourteen before the attack, but now... I'm not sure...”

Jongdae doesn't like how sad Jongin's voice is, and hates even more that he cares, but he decides not to dwell on it, and says the first thing that runs through his mind. 

“I get why you don't like to sleep alone. You're used to thirteen people around you.”

Jongin chuckles. “Actually, I mostly sleep with Yeri. She's kind of my best friend.”

 _Better_ , Jongdae thinks with a little smile when Jongin's voice reaches his ears, half-embarrassed half-shy. 

“She takes care of the food rations with me, so we really are always together.”

It's so Jongin to be talking about someone with so much affection and adoration, with so much care in his eyes as if the worst thing that could happen to him and his feelings would be his precious Yeri turning down his offer for a coffee date. But, just like Jongdae can't help but stop and look up when his feet take him to forgotten roads showered with broken light through roofs made of leaves, he can't help but stare at Jongin. And he knows it's dangerous, he knows how sad it is, and that it only forecasts destruction and pain, but at tqshe same time, it's beautiful. Jongin shines brightly, but too bright for a world where the rest of human kind can only live in the night. 

“She sounds nice,” Jongdae says with a voice he hopes sounds conclusive. He doesn't want to talk about Jongin's group anymore. They're probably dead anyway. 

“She is,” Jongin nods. 

Silence, so large and overwhelming, butts in, and they both let it swallow them. Just a few minutes though, but Jongdae was kind of expecting it. He started the conversation, and Jongin wouldn't let him forget that that easily. 

“How about you?” Jongin asks. “How come you're alone?”

“I wasn't always alone,” Jongdae shrugs. “But I've come to realise being alone is safer, better.”

Jongin doesn't look convinced. 

“How can it be? No one to guard the house during the day, no one to help you if you break your leg--”

“If you break your leg, you're dead, people around you or not,” Jongdae cuts him. 

“It's not what I meant,” Jongin mumbles.

Jongdae shrugs again, lips pressed in a thin line. He doesn't want to go on about his past life, and the people he lost. Jongin's presence suddenly loses its hypnotizing and kind of comforting state to become itchy on Jongdae's skin, unwelcomed. He has smaller legs, but he still tries to take longer strides, in the hope that if he walks faster enough, he'll be able to get ride of Jongin in six days top. Jongin follows the new rhythm easily, huffing with anger. 

“Staying with people would help you improve your social skills,” he snaps at Jongdae. “And that wouldn't be a bad thing, because you're a fucking moron.”

Jongdae adjusts his bag on his shoulders, determined not to meet Jongin's eyes. 

“You're like that fucking Katy Perry song,” Jongin goes on. “One minute you're friendly, and the next you look at me like you'd like me better dead.”

“Haven't you heard the news?” Jongdae taunts him. “Katy Perry's dead.”

“You don't know, maybe she was immune.”

Jongdae winces at Jongin's tone. He sounds like a whiny teenager who never gets out and still tries to teach his parents lessons about life, and it would be hilarious if it wasn't so infuriating. 

“Then she ended up in her friend's stomach, who wasn't,” he glares at Jongin. 

Anger doesn't suit Jongin. It's twisting his features in the most unexpected ways, but despite his knitted eyebrows and the scowl he's sporting, he still has that boyish vibe that easily outshines his broad shoulders and his clenched fists. Jongdae has seen a five-year-old Infected eat a grown up though, and he knows strength sometimes looks very similar to weakness, so he carefully wraps his fingers around his machete, just in case Jongin would turn to be hot-blooded. 

“Katy Perry's not the point,” Jongin bites back. “You should make up your mind about how you're going to act with me, because if I have to go through your bipolar disorder, I'd better--”

“Shut up,” Jongdae hisses, stoping dead in his tracks. His hand shoots in thin air and he closes his fingers like claws around Jongin's forearm. Thank god, Jongin doesn't discuss, coming to a halt right away. Darkness has engulfed his face most of the night, but his eyes now stand out in the night, faint moonlight catching on all the white around his pupils now that they're wide open. 

Jongdae remembers the summer breaks with his family, and how they would leave the hustle and bustle of Daejeon for the peacefulness of the country. He remembers not being able to sleep the first night because of how quiet it was in their cottage compared to the background noises he was so used to in the city. It's a thought that frequently hits his brain, and has him bordering on mirth every single time, because he had no idea, back then, how _silent_ the world could be. The silence now is closer to the absence of sound when you plunge under water, deep enough for the light to struggle to reach you. It isn't deafening though, it isn't oppressive or overwhelming. It's just there, huge and whole, and what is deafening are the cracks that run through it when something _less-silent_ happens. 

Another branch cracks on their left, deep into the forest, but Jondgae still hears it as if it was just next to them. Jongin's breath hitches in the back of his throat, and Jongdae knows he hasn't dreamed the sound. 

“A nest...?” Jongin asks, low, so low that the silence almost doesn't notice it, but it still makes the hair on Jongdae's nape stand up. 

There are no rules about the Infected's behaviors, not exactly, but generalization has worked pretty well for Jongdae until then. He knows how rare it is for the Infected to go out of their lairs at night, so the probability is low, very low. He also knows that if they're walking near a nest, and they heard their bickering, they'll be here in no time. And they probably know that portion of the forest like the back of their hands, thanks to that scary animal instinct the virus has given them. 

He glances at Jongin, the latter looking as terrified as Jongdae feels, and gestures him to keep quiet. Infected don't have ultra developped senses, except for the smell of blood, but in that silence, the slightest sound would attract the whole pack. 

Despite the close sunset, darkness around them is thick and impenetrable, but Jongdae keeps narrowing his eyes at the forest, just in case. Seconds tick by, minutes, but the cold sweat running down his spine keep attacking his body with shudders. He's almost sure they're being hunted. 

Jongin relaxes a few minutes later, a short sigh leaving his mouth. Then it happens again. And again. Again. A branch, several branches, and faint groans, faint moans. Jaws clicking, nails scrapping the trees. Jongin recoils, whimpering, and Jongdae sees white, adrenaline burning his whole body up. 

“Run,” he whispers, fingers leaving red crescent imprints on Jongin's skin. “As fast as you can.”

Jongin darts off before Jongdae's last words reach him, but Jongdae is on his heels. Their shoes blow up the silence everytime they hit the road, and their breaths, already short, sound too much like they're indicating their position to Jongdae, but running's their only option if they want to survive. The silence remains strong around them, like a wall between them and the rest of the world. It's just Jongin, Jongdae, and the Infected running behind them now. 

The road abruptly turns left, and carried away by his speed, Jongin doesn't see it before it's too late. He gasps and jumps over the safety barrier, straight into the forest, and Jongdae's mind screams red alert. Not the forest, he wants to scream, but they have a small lead over the Infected trailing after them, and scream will ruin it. He follows Jongin into the darkness, and prays that neither of them falls and hurts themselves, his arms stretched before him to try and avoid the trees popping up with every step he takes. He keeps running, his bag hitting the small of his back everytime he jumps over a bundle of roots, his eyes trying to focus on Jongin's faint silhouette. The ground is softly going down under his soles, and soon enough, he's gaining speed. He hears the precise moment the Infected enters the forest, the commotion echoing all around him. Some of them groan, others sound like they're falling and being walked on, but all in all, they mostly sound like they are too many of them. Jongdae tries to calculate the distance between them but lets go when he dodges in for the third time to avoid a low branch. Now's the worst time to bleed.

Jongin's legs are longer, and he runs terribly fast, but Jondgae's pretty sure he slows down from time to time to make sure Jongdae doesn't lose him, and Jongdae doesn't. The sun is rising behind the horizon line, revealing high and dispersed trees in that greyish light that comes before the actual sunrise, before the explosion of bright colors. They've reached the end of the hill, but they both try to keep up with the speed the slope gave them. Jongdae is now trying to determinate how many Infected there are and if, maybe, he can take them all down. He took Jongin's only weapon, but he could still throw him something before the Infected reach them. He doesn't know nothing about Jongin's skills, and he's pretty sure he can't kill them all on his own. It's a dangerous bet, one he won't risk to take, at least not until they still have a choice, with the distance between them and the Infected. Jongdae needs a solution though, because they've been running for a while now, probably around half an hour, and the Infected won't let them go. 

He groans as the adrenaline pushes back the fear in deepest corners of his mind, where he doesn't have to think about it for now, and blindly reaches for his bag, panting. Jongin glances at him over his shoulder, but Jongdae motions him to keep going, internally screaming in victory when his other hand, deep in the bag, closes around what he was searching for. He pulls out the sockets, and hears a familiar sound at the same time he throws them over his shoulder, fingers secured around what was inside. It's light, kind of bubbly, and constant, and Jongdae's mind immediately focuses on it. There's a river near.

He clenches his jaws and speeds up to reach Jongin, and then run past him. His legs are burning, and his back is screaming from the weight of the bag, and Jongin looks as bad as he feels. Sweat is plastering his hair down, and the effort has painted his face red. He's panting hard, his breath whistling around the air he's desperately trying to take in. Unable to talk for the very same reason, Jongdae takes him by the hand and turns towards the water sound, only letting go of Jongin when the latter follows the change of direction. They're going down another hill now, but with the sun shyly looking above the horizon line, it's not as dangerous, and it mostly helps. Jongdae lets go of the urgency he was feeding his leg muscles with, and lets the angle of the ground they're running on takes him deeper into the forest. 

He didn't really have a plan, except for the tiny ampule in his hand, but it was just the sketch of an idea that could have gone wrong in all the most terrible ways. So when he catches sight of the wooden hut when they reach the river's bank, relief washes over him. He immediately shoves Jongin inside, the latter landing with a _oomph_ , and opens the tube as he runs towards the border. He almost stumbles straight into the whirling water and curses when he falls on his butt. He quickly checks the tube, making sure that not a single drop from the blood inside splattered on him, and pours the red liquid into the water. The Infected are getting dangerously close, just a few meters up the hill, so Jongdae turns around, walking on all fours as fast as he can, up the bank until he can hauls himself straight behind the hut. The first Infected reaches the border just when he presses himself against the back wall of the hut, and he silently prays that Jongin got enough common sense to close the door. The first body hits the surface of the water with a sharp sound, and Jongdae has no trouble picturing the probably almost naked body throwing itself forward without an ounce of doubt. Are they even registering the fact that they're diving into water? Jongdae has tried to drown some of them before, so he knows their remaining reflexes and instincts are just good enough to allow them to keep their heads above the water, but what about the thoughts that come with it? He listens, wincing, the mutliple splashes, the unmistakable sound of bodies raining over the river's surface, and how loud it is. There's nothing left of the persons they were before the virus, even less of their thoughts. They would jump from a building to follow the smell of blood. Jongdae has to shut his eyes to keep himself from puking. 

He waits what feels like hours after the last splashing sound, but even like that, it doesn't feel enough. The silence doesn't feel as thick now that the river is just under his feet, but Jongdae takes his time getting used to it, until he can block it in his mind and focus on the rest. Which means only a few birds, and a soft breeze whistling through the leaves. The sun is now over the horizon line, and shining bright enough to erase the faint pink and orange painted all over the sky just a few moments before, and Jongdae loses himself on the sparkles exploding on the water when rays of sunshine land on the river.

When he remembers Jongin, the burn in his lungs has almost completely faded, and the nausea has stopped. He slowly raises himself from the ground, limbs shaking with the long walk and the sprint he forced on them, and bypasses the hut to reach the door. He's relieved to see it closed, but hurries to open it to slip inside, and looks over his shoulder one last time before he lets himself fall inside the hut. He lands on a dirty ground, dust whirling around around his body, and barely has time to take in the archaic surroundings before someone fills his vision. Jongin's large hands wrap around his shoulders to raise him up from the ground, just enough so he can press Jongdae against his chest. 

“You're crazy,” Jongin mumbles.

“I saved your ass, ungrateful brat,” Jongdae retorts, and Jongin chuckles. 

Jongin finally pulls away. He probably faceplanted when Jongdae shoved him head first into the hut, because he has an imprint of sand on his cheek, glued by the perspiration, but despite the exhaustion, he looks okay. He's even smiling, dark chocolate eyes swallowing Jongdae in a warm bubble, and the latter finds himself crashing against the mystery that is Kim Jongin and his optimistism in a world where it can't exist again. Jongdae sighs, his resolve faltering and finally breaking, and reaches to pet Jongin's wet hair.

“We'll have to stay there today,” he says, glancing around at what was probably a hunter's hut. “I'll get out later to refill the bottles, but for now, we should sleep.”

With the eyesmile Jongin keeps flashing him, he almost expects the latter to purr and curl up on his lap at the mention of some well deserved hours of sleep, but to Jongdae's surprise, Jongin almost recoils in fright at the mention of it, his eyes suddenly nervous and fleeting. It's only then that Jongdae recalls that Jongin feels safer when someone is guarding the door, and he feels himself deflating. 

“You can sleep,” he says. “I'll stay awake until you wake up, okay?”

Jongin throws him a hesitant glance, and Jongdae almost wants to argue, to remind him that no Injected will open their door, because they never do. During days, they just wander around and wait for the so desired ferrous smell to grace their noses, not even thinking about going into the houses if they don't smell it. He lets go though, giving in before he even starts forming the sentence in his head when he catches Jongin's grateful eyes on him. 

“Sleep,” he orders gruffly.

Jongin nods before considering the dirty ground around him. He doesn't flinch as he curls up in the corner of the tiny hut and immediately closes his eyes, using his palms as a pillow under his cheek. Jongdae watches him, the sight of Jongin's endless legs folded back against his abdomen a nice distraction of the sound of bodies falling into the water he keeps hearing in the back of his mind. He turns around, and glances at the door, hunger washed away by another wave of nausea. 

 

 

“How did you do it?” Jongin asks him a few hours later. 

Jongdae wonders how the other boy knew he was awake since his eyes are still closed, but even like that, he feels Jongin's intense gaze on him, and he grumbles. He's not fully back from his short night yet, sleepiness still heavy in his mind, and his body still numb. It turned out that the floor of the hut wasn't the worst mattress Jongdae has experienced, and he surprisingly slept pretty well when his turn finally came. He supposes it also has to do with the proximity of the river and the soft lapping sounds that lulled his conscience to sleep. It was a nice change from all the silence, and it took him back to older times, times he can't allow himself to think about. 

Now that he's awake though, the river sounds turn into a source of danger. Fond of silence or not, it has kept him alive until then, and the river is drowning it. If something or someone comes closer, they won't hear it until it's too late. Jongdae sits up so quickly that the walls turn around him, and his brain feels like it's shrinking against the back of his skull. He winces, raising a hand to massage his temple. 

“Here,” Jongin says softly, pushing an old basin filled with water towards him. “I got out earlier to fill it. The water's fresh, it will do you good.”

Jongdae narrows his eyes at the other boy. “You got out?”

Jongin nods with a little smile. His eyes feel even more intense than usually, like he's trying to decipher every little twitch in Jongdae's features, and the latter looks away, uneasy. 

“I was very careful, don't worry.”

Jongdae slightly shrugs, eyeing the clear water with envy. He tests it with the tip of his index finger and finally plunges his hands into the basin to wash his face. The water feels divine against his skin, and Jongdae can feel the dirt being washed away. He sighs contentedly, taking more water in his palms to splatter it on his nape and down his collarbones. Jongin watches him silently, his wet hair dripping on his shoulders, and Jongdae decides it's a terrific idea. He shifts to get on his knees and leans down to plunge his head into the water. The freshness of it sends a spark of adrenaline down his spine, and something else that feels like glee, and Jongdae embraces it, squinting under the water and smiling to himself. He reaches up and starts washing his hair, fingers scraping against his scalp. It's not long before another set of fingers come to help him, and Jongdae's hum of pleasure turns into a bubbly melody when it reaches the surface. 

When he feels clean enough after a few minutes of intense washing, Jongdae ruffles his hair, wringing some of the longer locks to get the water out. He looks down to the basin, the water now of a brownish color, and specks of dust swirling in the tiny whirls Jongdae left behind. They catch the sunlight pourring in the hut from the cracks between every plank, turning into small gold nuggets for a short instant. Jongdae checks his watch, it's a little over five pm. He slept for five hours. 

“How did you do it?” Jongin says again, whiping his wet hands on his pants. 

Jongdae raises an eyebrow at him. “Did what?”

“Exactly. I don't know. You pushed me into the shack and all I heard after was the Infected diving in, one after the other. I thought you were dead. How did you manage?”

Jongdae snorts. He wouldn't have sacrificed himself for Jongin, no matter what the latter seems to think, but he knows better than to correct him. Instead, he grabs his bag and rummages through it, fingers quickly closing on the sockets. He pulls them out and shows Jongin the three remaining tubes, all of them filled with his blood, thick and dark red. Jongin gasps as he slides on his butt to move away from Jongdae, as if he was holding a handgrenade. In a sense, he is. 

“I keep them for situations like these,” Jongdae explains. “I pourred one in the river, and they didn't even slow down to follow the trail.” 

Jongin gulps, eyeing the tubes with cautious eyes. 

“Isn't it a little bit too dangerous? Like... What if they break in your bag?”

Jongdae shrugs, putting the tubes inside the folded sockets with careful movements. 

“Never happened. They helped me a few times before though, and they saved us this morning.”

Jongin's shoulders seem to relax a bit now that the blood is out of sight, but he still watches Jongdae intently as the latter puts them back in his bag. Jongdae is organized, as organized as one can be in such a messy world, and he knows where to put the sockets so they're the most protected from random impacts, but under Jongin's dark eyes, he can't help but take his time to place them. He wants Jongin to realise how careful he is, and that there's no danger. His fingers graze the Stephen King's book he stole Luhan, and he briefly wonders if Jongin would still look at him with so much admiration in his eyes if he knew what happened with the last tube, and how it has _helped_ Jongdae. Not to mention that that tube was probably the cause of the Infected's attack on Jongin's group. 

Jongdae quickly chases the thought away, and pulls out two choco pies from the depths of his bag, one for him and one for Jongin. The latter takes his with a tiny smile, his eyes still thoughtful. 

“It's actually... quite clever,” he mumbles, taking out his choco pie from its bag. 

Jongdae avoids Jongin's eyes, drawing his attention on the chocolate flooding his mouth. It isn't that tasteful, the wrapping of the cake having somehow left a taste in the chocolate, but his grumbling stomach still welcomes the sweetness. 

“How do you take the blood, though?” Jongin asks again when he swallows down his first bite. His tongue keeps darting out between each word to lick at some possible crumbs left on his lips. Jongdae obviously wasn't the only one starving. “I mean, you had to cut yourself, am I right? And you didn't get caught?”

“Obviously not.”

Jongin scoots closer, the curiosity storng enough to make him forget about the cake he's holding between long fingers. 

“But how?”

Jongdae sighs, putting back his pie in its wrapping. He's not sure he'll still be hungry after. 

“It depends,” he starts. “Sometimes, I stumble onto some remains, and when I'm lucky, the Infected are gone, having eaten everything they wanted to. When I'm even luckier, I can collect a little bit of blood from the...” -Jongin winces- “bodies. Other times, they're still here, festing, so I keep quiet and hide as close as possible. Then I cut myself. Most of the time, there's already too much blood for them to even smell mine.”

Jongin makes a face, pulling his own pie away from his mouth. His obvious disgust doesn't seem to lessen his curiosity towards Jongdae though, and the latter can almost see the next question taking shape in Jongin's warm pupils. 

“Isn't that very risky though?”

Jongdae nods. His fingers instinctively follow the curve of his machete lying against his hip. 

“I was a barman before the explosion,” he tells Jongin. “I don't really know how to fight, I mean, I've learned the basics—I had to, but I'm not that good? Against more than two or three Infected, I'm bound to get killed. I needed to be creative.”

The expression in Jongin's eyes softens to one of care and understanding. 

“That's why you shouldn't be alone. People can help you be safe without you having to take such huge risks.”

Jongdae shakes his head, the gesture sending a few droplets of water flying around him. 

“I told you already, I don't do groups. Do you think I haven't tried it before? It's never ended well.”

Jongin shrugs. “Maybe you weren't with the right people.”

Jongin's trust in his group would be touching if it wasn't so stupid, but at least this new topic has reminded Jongdae's of the incident from last night, and how they left the road they were following. 

“Yeah, maybe. I don't know. Whatever,” he shrugs Jongin's remark off and plunges his hands in the bag again, this time aiming for the map. 

“I'm going to try and find where we ended up,” he tells Jongin. “Because _someone_ decided to leave the road yesterday.”

Jongin quickly reacts to the underlying teasing tone in Jongdae's voice with a raising eyebrow. 

“If I hadn't, we wouldn't have found that river. We would still be running on your precious road.”

Jongdae unfolds the map, keeping silent. He doesn't say it, but he highly doubts it. Their shared joke though, seems to do Jongin a lot of good, because he resumes eating with a grin so wide it takes over his face, turning his eyes into mischievous crescents. 

“Man, we were running so fast, we probably would have found back my people by now,” he snickers. 

That too, Jongdae isn't very sure of, but once again, he keeps his mouth shut, focusing on the map while Jongin eats next to him.

 

 

Jongin discovers he's two years younger than Jongdae a few hours later, and decides to call him hyung, to what Jondgae cackles, saying that for all he cares, Jongin could even call him oppa. It just doesn't matter anymore, it's not like a little bit more of respect would help the world right now. Jongin still gives him that impression of being too late, like he should've been born fifty years earlier, with his kindness and his care for formal Korean. Jongdae doesn't want to ask, but he thinks more and more about the Kim Jongin before the Mist Days, who he was, where he used to live and if he really did make the lives of his loved ones better with his strong charisma and boyish optimism. It's not much a matter of pride that refrains Jongdae from asking, but more of self-defence. Details about Jongin's past life wouldn't do him any good, especially since Jongdae's still determined to leave him behind when they'll find his group. He already finds himself glancing at Jongin during their nights spent walking to make sure the younger male is okay, and that sudden interest rings like a warning through his mind. He's not supposed to care, but Jongin is hard to resist to. He stands in awe in the dead of the night, his head thrown back as his eyes take in the constellations he doesn't know the name of, and points at high stalks, pretending he knows everything about the closed flowers. Jongin thinks the saddest part of it all is being allowed outside only during the night, when the flowers are asleep, and his voice takes a disgusted note when he adds that the living monsters shouldn't be allowed to live like flowers, awake and feeding during the day, and asleep and forgotten during the night. Jongdae would like to argue, maybe even kick Jongin's ass for worrying about something that random, but he finds himself tongue-tied, his throat constricted around his words. On the second night, Jondgae stops in the middle of the road with Jongin, and looks up at the sky for a short minute. But when Jongin smiles at him afterwards, Jongdae knows it was still a minute too long. 

If Jongdae refuses to ask Jongin about his past, it's not the boy's case. He keeps finding new questions, his warm and nasal voice always fighting off the silence when the latter settles between them, and Jondgae lets him. Jongin has been bordering on an invisible red line drawn around some topics, but he's been very careful not to cross it. They never talk about groups again, or about what happened after the Misty Days. Jongin's questions stop at the world, at how it used to be back then, and it's just... _so_ Jongin. 

“Where were you heading?” Jongin asks two nights after their last meeting with the Infected, and a few minutes after their impromptu stargazing session. “When you found me, I mean.”

Jongdae shrugs. “Nowhere. It doesn't really matter, does it?”

Jongin nods with a smile. 

“That's why you agreed to turn back for me,” he muses. “Because you were actually walking towards the opposite direction, weren't you?”

Jondgae thinks about Luhan's gang, and the weapons he had to leave them because he couldn't take more. If Jongin really had asked him to go back near this place, guilt or no, Jongdae would have told him to go screw himself. 

“Kind of,” he tells Jongin. “But not exactly. Like I said, though, it doesn't matter. I think I'll try to get out of China after. Maybe I'll go north. The Infected are probably slowed down by really cold temperatures.”

Jongin watches him with his usual intense eyes, but Jongdae has learned to decode them. He knows there's a question waiting to be spilled out on the tip of the younger male's tongue, and he knows that if Jongin hasn't asked yet, it's because it's a delicate one. Jongdae has an idea about what it is, so he quickly looks away. He remembers Jongin saying that they'll probably head towards the European seaside when he'll be back with his group, and he's pretty sure Jongin is thinking about the same thing. Fortunately, Jongin has a no trespassing line around topics like this one, and he doesn't ask, deflating after a few moments. 

Jongdae isn't scared to turn him down, not scared of the hurt he'd see flooding Jongin's eyes. He's mostly worried about the fact that he isn't sure he'll say no if Jongin asks him to stay with him and his group. 

“We're halfway there,” Jongin says again, his tone back at being cheerful and so out of place in the middle of the night. “I can't wait to see my friends,” he sighs longingly. 

There's a hint of worry in Jongin's voice, and Jongdae can't help but agree. He knows it's impossible for all Jongin's thirteen friends to have survived the attack of a full pack of Infected, and it's obvious that Jongin is aware of it as well. He's probably too nice, too kindhearted to hope for some of them to be alive more than others though, but Jongdae can do it for him. He really hopes that Jongin's closest friends and that –what was her name again? Ah yes, _Yeri_ , are still alive. He doesn't know the others, and he doesn't care. 

“You'll see how nice they are,” Jongin continues, dismissing his worries with a slight gesture of the hand. “They'll give you back everything you gave me.”

Jongin doesn't wait for an answer, because it's not even one second after that he's back at rambling about his friends, and how nice and different they are, and Jongdae takes the flow of information for what it really is, namely, Jongin seeking for reassurance and distraction. Jongin is revealing to be nothing more than a puddle of worries and fears, the exact kind of people Jongdae would be avoiding like plague, because they inevitably drown, and when then do, they take everyone down with them. Jongdae eases his own uneasiness by telling himself that in just a few days, Jongin will be gone, back with his group, and he won't have to worry about being a collateral damage to Jongin's downfall anymore. The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, one that he takes for dryness, and that he pretends has disappeared when he gulps down half of his water bottle. 

When they reach a house perched in the center of an orchard a couple of hours before the sunrise, Jongin is still talking about his people, and Jongdae has registered a few names already. Yeri is the most frequent one, and it's also the most fragile one. Jongin says it with such care, his voice low and soft, that it feels like a direct door to his worst fears, and it probably is. In all honesty, telling himself that Jongin would probably be dead without those people he's been since the very beginning doesn't help Jongdae a bit. He feels himself give in to Jongin's sad eyes when he enters the bedroom upstairs. 

“Wanna come in?” he asks, and for a split second, he can't believe what he's just said. 

Jongin is obviously as surprised, because he stares, mouth agape. Jongdae gestures towards the bed. 

“We could put the mattress on the floor and sleep on it together,” he adds, his voice dropping a few octaves lower as he ends up grumbling. “I mean, you're tall, but we would fit...”

“Thank you,” Jongin whispers. 

They stand there for a while, staring at each other. Jongdae had been so sure he had a head start over Jongin, but now that he's facing the sad glint in his eyes, he's really starting to doubt. Something tells him that Jongin has known all along he's not cut out to face this reality, that the world has been running too fast for him to catch up, and that he would be dead without his friends. It's probably why he likes them so much in the first place, and why their names always pop up like a mantra in the dead of the night. Jongdae's resolve melts a little more and he steps away to let Jongin walks to the bed. 

“Thank you hyung,” Jongin whispers again a few moments later, when they both end up on the mattress, their leg muscles finally relaxing. 

Jongdae snorts. “You're welcome, Jonginnie.”

He doesn't even need to glance at the younger boy to know that the latter is beaming at the use of Korean suffixes. (But he still does.)

 

 

Jongdae opens his eyes, warmth spreading on his face through the window, and for a very short second, it feels nice, and nice only. He closes his eyelids and basks in that fleeting second with a long sigh, knowing that soon, he'll be groaning, thinking about summer's heat, and sweat and food rotting in the stores. And the following second, he'll be worrying about Infected, the few miles they still have to walk, and how effortlessly Jongin has slipped into his life. Jongdae sighs, this time with heavy lungs devoid of content, and rolls on his stomach. He lands on the floor, the wooden material fresh against the skin of his abdomen, and the unexpected sensation finishes to pull him out of sleepiness. He opens his eyes, conscience sharp, and mind screaming about the total lack of sound. 

Jondgae props himself up and looks over the other side of the mattress, only to find it empty, with no trace of Jongin. His heart jumps up in his throat, and he quickly shifts on his knees, hands flying in his bag. He doesn't even need to open it to know that Jongin hasn't stolen anything, but he still checks, just in case, reaching for his weapons afterwards. His gun his still against his hiphone, the barrel printed on his skin, and his machete is right where he left it, which would be just beside the mattress. Jongdae frowns, turning his head towards the bedroom's door, slightly ajar. 

“Jongin?” he whispers, pulling out the machete from under the bed. 

Jongin is probably downstairs, doing whatever nice people like him do when they wake up, but Jongdae shoves the thought away. Despite his everything urging him to run downstairs and check on Jongin, Jongdae walks towards the window, intending to check the surroundings like he always does because _better safe than sorry_. He freezes when he reaches the square of bright light spread out on the floor though, eyes almost falling off their sockets with how wide he opens them at the sight welcoming him. 

“What the fuck,” he stutters, before turning over and dashing out of the room. 

He almost falls when he runs down the stairs, but he jumps over the last few steps, both his gun and machete in his hands, and his heart beating like crazy in his chest. He forces himself to slow down when he reaches the front door, but all his senses are still urging him, screaming red alert in his mind and making his movements somehow jerky. He glances around as soon as he steps out, the hair on his arms sticking out when the first rays of sunshine crash on him. He thinks about retreating to the safety of the house, even stepping back, but the sight of Jongin so fucking carelessly picking cherries changes his mind. 

“Jongin!” he half-shouts, half-whispers, walking as fast as he can towards the cherry trees. 

Jongin turns over, beaming when he catches sight of Jongdae as he licks his fingers clean, his other hand carrying a plastic bag full of cherries. The sun piercing through the long branches casts patches of light like puzzle pieces over Jongin's face, highlighting his natural tanned skin and giving even more depths to the chocolate splinters in his eyes. The view would honestly be pretty if sunlight hadn't become quite deadly in the past few months.

Jongdae finally snaps a few meters away from Jongin, and runs towards the latter. He puts his gun back in his belt and grabs Jongin by the arm, tightening his hold on purpose just to make Jongin squirm with uncomfort.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing,” he hisses at Jongin. 

When the latter opens his mouth to answer, Jongdae shuts him down with a glare. 

“No actually, no, just—shut up. We need to go back inside.”

Jongdae shoves the younger boy before him and pushes him towards the house, his own eyes wandering all around them. The sun is high above their heads, indicating midday with hot rays raining on them, which means the Infected are hunting right now, their senses still sharp and deadly. The forest around the orchard is both a blessing and a curse, and Jongdae would rather not find out on which side reality will choose to be. He hears himself breathe, so slow compared to erratic panic he feels beating through his veins, and he lets himself falls into an altered state with every step he takes towards the house. Each second could be his last one, and he knows it. Infected could be popping out of the forest any moment now, and the house that felt so much like a shelter last night, now stands high between the trees like a tomb. He tightens his hold on the machete, muscles tense and ready to drown in adrenaline. 

Jongin finally reaches the threshold, his bag of cherries still dangling off his hands, and he looks over, his face infuriatingly devoid of fear. Is he not aware of what they're risking?! 

“Hyung--”

“Shut up,” Jongdae cuts him. He jumps over the few steps of the porch, and pushes Jongin further into the house. He looks over his shoulder one last time and quietly closes the door behind them, immediately crouching down to keep watching the surroundings through the window next to the door.

“Hyung,” Jongin starts again. “I was really silent. I'm—I was a dancer before, I'm very quiet, they couldn't possibly hear me...”

“I don't fucking care what you were before,” Jongdae snaps back. “We don't know how many of them there is in that forest, and you still got out.”

“But--”

“You think being _silent_ is all that matters? They could have seen you. Anything could have happened.”

Jongin holds Jongdae's gaze, half pouting half defying. 

“I know you think I'm useless, but I've done it before, okay? And I'm still alive.”

“You didn't even have a weapon!”

Jongin freezes, Jongdae's short breath still swirling with anger around them, and against all odds, the younger boy's face breaks into a grin. It crashes against Jongdae's retinas, unexpected and so out of place that it's disturbing, but he faces Jongin's eye smile as bravely as he can. 

“Is that why you were so scared?” Jongin asks, _teases_ like now's the time for teasing and games. “Kim Jongdae, were you worried about me?”

Jongdae huffs and reaches out to hit Jongin's knee. When the latter's stupid beam doesn't disappear, he pushes him until Jongin's balance, already fragile from his squatting position, gives in and he falls on his butt. 

“It's not funny,” Jongdae hisses at him. 

Jongin shrugs, trying to come back to a blank face, but it obviously doesn't work very well since he ends up hiding his crooked smile behind delicate hands. Mortified, Jongdae ignores him as he keeps watching outside although it has become obvious that no Infected caught sight of Jongin, or they would have already attacked by now. Jongin stands up after a while, stepping out of the room wordlessly. Jongdae clenches his fists, nails digging into his palms to stop himself from following the younger boy to know what he's up to. He's mad, so mad. Mad at Jongin for thinking he gets to choose how dangerous the world is so he can keep admiring flowers and stars, but most of all, he's mad at himself. He's been there before, and he knows that caring never ends well, nothing ever does, and yet, he's rushed outside without taking any precaution whatsoever.

He hears Jongin coming down the stairs again, but he keeps his eyes focused on the trees outside, determined not to talk to the younger. Jongin doesn't seem to mind, as he takes place next to Jongdae, crouching behind the second window on the other side of the door. 

“Since we're going to keep watching all day long, I thought we could do with a snack,” Jongin says. 

Jongdae's resolve only gets stronger when he hears Jongin's smile laced all over his voice. He narrows his eyes at the forest's border, mentally snorting at Jongin's attempts. What does he think, that Jongdae's that easily to lure in? The smell, though, is harder to resist, especially when Jongin noisily licks his lips while humming in pleasure. He's put the bag of cherries between the two of them, wide open, and from the noise and the lingering smell, Jongin has also taken the cheese crackers from the backpack. Jongdae swallows his saliva, scooting closer to the wall, his fingers clenched on the edge of the window. His knuckles turn white when Jongin bites into another cracker with a loud sigh of pleasure, and he tries to block the smell by breathing with his mouth only. It's actually worse, because the air tastes like cheese, and it stimulates his salivary glands. He's pretty sure that Jongin's exagerated hums of pleasure aren't enough to cover the loud rumbling of his stomach. But Jongdae is still way too mad to cave in. 

Jongin moves, and soon enough, Jongdae hears a familiar ruffling sound that he immediately recognizes. The brat has brought his bag downstairs, and he's now handing Jongdae the map of China, shaking it under his nose like a bait.

“We should check our position on the map,” Jongin says without chickening out under Jongdae's dark eyes. “Don't you do it everyday?”

Jongdae grabs the map, throwing Jongin one last glare before he turns over, drawing back his attention on the orchard outside, the map settled in his fingers. Jongin lets out a quiet chuckle, one that has Jongdae's blood boiling, but when he looks over to snap at the younger boy, the latter is handing him a cracker with a cherry so red it's almost black, on top. Jongdae's eyes travel from the offering to Jongin's soft eyes, and he deflates. He takes the cracker, and hulls the cherry under Jongin's warm gaze. 

“Brat,” he groans. 

“I know,” Jongin says, pushing the crackers towards Jongdae.

“It was really stupid and very risky, and useless. We could have picked those cherries before leaving tonight. In the _dark_.”

“I know,” Jongin repeats. “I'm sorry.”

“You better be,” Jongdae mumbles, before shoving the whole cracker in his mouth. Damn, it's divine, so much that he has to bite his inner cheek to swallow down a sigh of pleasure. 

“I won't do anything unless you tell me to,” Jongin continues. He straightens and points his finger at Jongdae. “I won't even ask to do anything, you're the master and I'm the slave.”

Jongdae stares, and snorts, rolling his eyes. It was obviously Jongin's goal since the latter beams at him, his eyes turning into mischievous crescents and his lower eyelids jutting out from the pressure of his cheekbones. 

“You're overdoing it, Jongin.”

Jongin shrugs with a little smile, pleased to see Jongdae's hand plunge into the bag of cherries. They eat in silence, and although Jongdae wouldn't admit it, the fruits are a nice change from all the biscuits and freeze-dried food he's been eating for the past few months. Jongin picked a lot, but they eat them all with sticky fingers and red juice painting their lips. There's even more outside, but Jongdae hasn't been charmed enough by Jongin to even consider it. He does make a mental note though, to pick a few more when they'll leave the house in the evening. 

Jongin hands him the water bottle, and a wet handkerchief when Jongdae's done drinking. He then pushes the last cracker almost religiously towards Jongdae, beaming when the latter takes it. Jongin is all soft touches and warm but discreet attentions, and his sincerity is sometimes destabilizing. People have long stopped being nice, but Jongdae has come to learn it, Jongin isn't quite like everyone. 

He considers the younger boy for a while, and finally folds his leg, bringing it closer, so that he can reach into his right ankle boot. He pulls Jongin's hunting knife out of it, and hands it to the latter. Jongin watches him, surprised, but Jongdae merely shrugs. 

“Just in case.”

Jongin grabs the knife and slides it back in his belt, and Jongdae quickly changes the topic by unfolding the map on the wooden floor, eyes lowered on purpose to avoid Jongin's. Jongin gets the hint and doesn't mention the weapons again. Or maybe he's just too busy jubilating at the ridiculous amount of miles they have to walk before they find back his friends. Either way is fine, because Jondgae would rather not dwell over the risks he keeps taking with Jongin around, and he silently prays that he hasn't fallen into a very weird plan that will get him killed in his sleep by Jongin, the nice and genuine boy. He doesn't mind the absence of the blade in his boot though, and is even reassured to know it's now in Jongin's reach. 

And he's mostly worried about that, actually.

 

 

“Why didn't you ask for your weapon?” Jongdae finally questions Jongin, a few hours later, as they walk through what might be the next-to-last night before they reach Jongin's meeting spot on the map. 

Jongin glances at him, shrugging. He's been exceptionnally calm since they left the house earlier, too focused on his long strides to care about sleeping flowers or constellations tonight. Jongdae can make him out fidgeting with his fingers in the dark. He knows Jongin is wondering about what he'll find when they'll reach their goal, or rather, what he _won't_.

“I mean, after the attack the other day and the river thing, I was kind of expecting you to ask me,” Jongdae goes on. “I could have easily died that day, and you would have been left weaponless.”

“You didn't die though.”

“I could have,” Jongdae insists. “And I could die tonight.”

Jongin sighs. “Then I would have stolen the weapons to your dead body.”

Jongdae grabs Jongin's arm, forcing him to come to an halt. He's spent enough time with the younger boy to know when he's serious or not, and he really doesn't like his tone right now. Jongin is probably rolling his eyes, taking advantage of the darkness around them to let his annoyance show, and Jongdae wants to take him by the shoulders and shake him as hard as he can. 

“Don't talk to me like I'm the overprotecting mother and you're the jaded teen, Jongin.”

Jongin blinks at him, the start of a pout curling his plump lips, but Jongdae doesn't let him go. He's not sure, with all those shadows taking over Jongin's face to the point that Jongdae can't even make out his lashes, but he thinks the younger male is embarrassed, and it leaves him confused. 

“I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable,” Jongin finally confesses, in a whisper-like voice. 

“What are you talking about?”

There are no doubts left now, because Jongin is drawing on the concrete with the tip of his shoes, white canines flashing in the dark as he bites on his lower lip, eyes lowered to have a conversation with his shoelaces. He is indeed embarrassed, and once again, Jongdae finds himself utterly lost. Not only because he's not sure why Jongin is acting like that, but because embarrassment kind of died with eighty percent of the population a year ago. Jongin is digging in the human kind's grave, and bringing back to life dead feelings, like kindness and care and _embarrassment_. No matter how nice they were though, it still makes them zombie feelings, in a way. And zombies are very scary and dangerous. 

“What the fuck, Jongin,” Jongdae hisses, suddenly annoyed. 

Jongin glares at him. 

“You were the one acting like standing too close to me would kill you,” he snaps back. “You took my knife because you didn't feel safe with me around, and I wasn't sure you trusted me, so I didn't ask.”

Jongdae stares, mouth agape. 

“Jongin,” he says, astonished. “A weapon can make the difference between life and death, and you didn't ask me yours back because you didn't want to hurt my feelings?”

Jongin pulls his arm away, then chasing Jongdae's hand with a dismissive gesture of his. His breath hits Jongdae's nostrils with hints of cherries, fresh on Jongdae's sweat covered face. 

“Yeah, laugh all you want,” Jongin snarls. “But I didn't want to give you any reasons to leave me, okay? I've never been alone, and it scared the living daylights out of me!”

Jongdae makes a face, pressing his hand on Jongin's mouth before looking over his shoulder to scrutinize the forest's border. Jongin tenses under his fingers and he pulls away to check his own side of the road, breath catching in the back of his throat. Jongdae closes his eyes, not letting the frightening shadows he thinks he can make out in the night scare him, to focus only on the sounds around them. Aside from the few usual sounds, like crickets singing their very special songs or a few bats flapping their wings, nothing breaks the silence. Jongdae waits until the echo of Jongin's loud voice he keeps hearing in his mind lessens to something more like a whisper, something less dangerous, to open his eyes again. 

Jongin is already watching him, stars reflecting in the water now flooding his eyes. 

“I'm gonna take you back to your friends,” Jongdae whispers, his fingers grazing Jongin's arms. 

Jongin sniffs. Jongdae looks away, pretending not to see when Jongin grabs the hem of his shirt to wipe his nose.

“You could stay with us,” Jongin mumbles, his voice sounding even more nasal now that it has lowered to cracking and shaking levels. “You could stay with me.”

Jongdae opens his mouth to answer, still not sure what words will go past his lips, but something takes over the night before his voice. He freezes. It's a low rumbling, still distant and faint, but it clashes violently against the more natural sounds around them. Jongin gasps, tensing under Jongdae's fingers for the second time in less than five minutes, and that's the only confirmation Jongdae needed that he hasn't dreamed the sound. 

“Is it--”

“We need to hide,” Jongdae cuts him, urging. Because yeah, _it is_.

He closes his fingers around Jongin's wrist and drags him on the side of the road. He palms the younger boy in the dark, fingers running up his arm to finally curl around his nape in less than a second, and he applies pressure on it, as strong as he can. Jongin may be taller than him, it doesn't take a lot to make him bend then finally lie down in the wet grass. Jongdae follows suit, heart beating in his eardrums. No one has cut the grass in over a year, which make it high enough to hide both of them, and for once, Jongdae's pretty grateful for the thick darkness around them. It doesn't mean the fear leaves him, it's quite the opposite actually. It breaks all over his skin in a cold sweat that has him shivering. The sound is getting louder, more overwhelming in the night, soon enough blocking Jongdae and Jongin from hearing crickets or bats. Every second, Jongdae thinks it can't possibly get louder, only to be proven wrong the following second. Has it always been like that? Were screeches of tires always that scary? Jongdae can't remember, but he wishes it was the last time hearing them. 

He's just shoved his fingers in his ears when dazzling light rains on them, so bright that it erases the outlines of the numerous blades of grass around them. Jongdae faintly hears Jongin yelping like a wounded puppy, and he pulls one of his fingers out of his ears to reach and grab the younger boy's hand. Jongin immediately clings to it. 

The car is way too fast for Jongdae to make out the color, but he imagines it black, like the night. Perfect for a beast that would hide in the shadows only to jump on its preys when they're the most vulnerable. It roars when it goes before them, and screeches when it negotiates the bend down the road, strong, loud and so metallic in a world only made of green foliage. Jongdae waits until he can hear himself breath again to pull his second finger out of his ear. Fortunately, the car drives away as fast as it has reached them, and Jongin finally breathes out when they hear a frog croaks on the other side of the road. 

“Get up,” Jongdae urges him, already shifting on his knees, the smell of grass flooding his nose. “We need to leave, now. The car could have woken up a nest.”

Jongin throws a worried glance over his shoulder, getting back on his feet as fast as he can to immediately step away from the forest. Jongdae helps him, fingers closing around Jongin's forearm to lead him back on the road. 

“We need to be careful,” Jongdae says. “It could be a settled group food hunting, they might be back later.” 

He has a lump in his throat, the possibility of a group living close much more frightening that the dozens of sleeping nests they most surely walk by every night. Jongdae draws out his machete from his belt, and starts walking again with much longer strides. Jongin follows him. 

“What?” he asks Jongdae, a little confused. “What makes you so nervous? They might not be as bad as you think. Maybe they'd even drive us to the city if we asked them.”

Jongdae snorts. 

“Look, I don't know about your people, Jongin, I don't know if they are as different as you state they are, but trust me when I say that you should be more scared of Immune than Infected.”

“Infected eat people,” Jongin mumbles. “I think that's pretty scary already.” 

“But they have rules. They're like animals, working on instinct and incapable of smart reasoning. You heard them by the river, they didn't even hesitate. It makes them easier to avoid, and more predictable. I saw some Immune do things far worse than eating people, Jongin.”

Jongin keeps quiet for a while, and Jongdae wishes he didn't. His mind can't stop replaying the scene of the car driving past them, in a desperate need for a detail that would help ease the tension. Luhan's gang had a car as well, and it's not like Jongdae can't easily dismiss the thought, because he knows Luhan. Jongdae stayed with his gang for two weeks, and it was more than enough to know what kind of sick man Luhan is. After what Jongdae has done to them, he expects Luhan to try and find him by all available means, and going back and forth across the whole country by car is just one of them. Jongdae's not naive enough to think that Luhan died in the attack, nor that he will give up on Jongdae at some point. Leaving the country really is his best option, and he'll head straight to Russia once Jongin will be reunited with his friends. Maybe he'll find himself a car, even though he doesn't like how loud they are. Cars are like any sort of technology in the current world: they make one feel powerful but they mostly don't fit in this new era anymore, and often result in having their owner killed. It would only be a temporary solution though, and--

“You're not though,” Jongin mutters, pulling Jongdae out of his reverie. 

“I'm not what?”

“You're not a bad person.”

“I sleep with people to gain their trust, and I steal their food and weapons when they're asleep,” Jongdae snorts. “I'm pretty sure it's not in the definition of goodness.”

Jongin stares at him, and Jongdae realises with a sudden jump of his heart that he's never mentionned any of this to Jongin before. He's said it before though, he was nothing more than a barman in a fancy hotel when the apocalypse fell on them. Whatever made twenty percent of the population immune was in his DNA though, and Jongdae didn't fancy the idea of letting it all go to waste, so he did the best he could with what he had. 

He looks away, speeding up slightly, but Jongin follows the new pace easily with his long legs. They walk in silence for a few moments with Jongdae glancing over his shoulder every two minutes. He'd hear the car if it came back, but checking helps him keep the anxiety at bay. He'd never thought that the sight of the road swallowed by darkness behind him would relax him, but it does, so Jongdae keeps watching. 

“It's not worse than eating people alive,” Jongin says. 

Jongdae quirks an eyebrow at Jongin, taking it the way the latter is watching him, careful but determined. 

“Jongin,” he sighs. 

“If eating people is the line,” Jongin continues, ignoring him. “Then you're not on the wrong side of it.”

“I've just told you that I leave people weaponless and foodless. Of course I'm on the bad side. What do you think happened to most of them?”

Jongin shakes his head, nose scrunched up as he flashes all his stubborness and determination at Jongdae. He's never looked more like a teenager than now, but Jongdae sees his boyish demeanor for what it really is now, namely some kind of twisted defence against the current state of the world. It's more dangerous than helpful, but Jongdae decides that they've had their amount of fear for the night, and instead of scowling Jongin and rambling about what he's done to Luhan, and what might have possibily led to Jongin's group being attacked, he wraps his arm around Jongin's figure and squeezes lightly his elbow. 

“You wouldn't want me in your group, Jonginnie, trust me,” Jongdae says in a voice he hopes is conclusive enough. And for a few seconds, that's what his last remark earns him: the end of their conversation. It doesn't last long, though. 

“But I do,” Jongin mumbles, so low that Jongdae can easily dismiss it and pretend he didn't hear it.

Jongin checks the road behind them for Jongdae, pulling away fom the latter's hold only to take his hand after, and Jongdae indulges him. 

They keep quiet all night, walking as fast as they can, so much that they're actually running when they reach their next shelter (an old barn). The car doesn't drive by them again, and Jongin doesn't ask Jongdae to stay with him again. All is good.

 

 

Jongdae tightens his hold on Jongin's wrist, tensing his muscles to try and hold back the younger male. Jongin shoots him a glare, but he still crouches down, going back to only glancing over the huge stone they're hiding behind. They've reached their destination, and are now watching Jongin's meeting spot, which is an old-looking warehouse standing proudly at the border of a small town. They still have a couple of hours of night left, but Jongdae has been taking extra precautions since the car incident, just to make sure they don't get surprised by some malevolant Immune. Hence their hiding spot behind the stone, at the forest's border, where there are enough trees to catch the light coming from the round and bright moon, instead of it reaching Jongdae and Jongin. Discretion is obviously not Jongin's priority now, because he keeps fidgeting, jumping back on his feet to try and run to the warehouse, despite Jongdae's numerous groans and scowls.

“ _Jongin_ ,” Jongdae hisses, grabbing Jongin's belt and pushing him down. 

Jongin lets out a frustrated sound, and Jongdae pinches his arm to shut him down. Jongin starts sulking, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“We're safer here,” Jongdae repeats for what might be the fifteenth time since they got here. “We'll see your group if they're here, but if we go inside that warehouse, we'll be vulnerable. No one can surprise us here.”

“Maybe they're inside already,” Jongin protests. 

“There's not a sound, Jongin.”

Jongin glares at him and shifts back on his knees, grabbing the top of the rock to glance at the building a few meters away. He probably rules in Jongdae's favor, because he finally sits down again, worried eyes scanning Jongdae's face. 

“They're probably late,” Jongdae hesitates. “We walked pretty fast, and groups are always slower. They'll get here eventually, and we'll be right there, okay?”

Jongin narrows his eyes at Jongdae, but if he understands that Jongdae doesn't believe a word he's just said, he doesn't show it. Instead, he deflates, throwing a sad look at the warehouse, his long fingers clenching on the fabric stretched over his knees. 

“So what?” he finally asks. “We're just going to wait here?”

Jongdae nods. 

“Exactly,” he confirms. 

“But what if they're still not here at sunrise?”

“We'll hide in the warehouse then. Even Immune who think they own the world avoid travelling by day, so I reckon we'll be safe. And then we'll come back here.”

Jongin slowly nods, as if weighing Jondgae's words. The latter though, is planning a very different version of the future events in his head, trying to decide how he'll tell Jongin that his group has probably been slaughtered back into the forest. He could tell Jongin right away, and it would give him a precious time to start his retreat towards Russia, but something in the way Jongin keeps glancing at the warehouse stops him. He supposes waiting a couple of days wouldn't be so bad, and it will give him some time to think about what he'll do with Jongin if no one shows up. Let him tag along? Jongdae can't really abandon him there, but taking Jongin with him... It's too dangerous. He's not running away from Luhan to get himself killed so stupidly.

“They can't be all dead, right?” Jongin asks—no _begs_ as he bites his lips. “I mean, I managed to get out... I know some of them must have died but...”

Jongin's voice cracks, and he lowers his face. 

“We were fourteen,” he whimpers. 

“Let's wait,” Jongdae intervenes. Jongin shoots him a glance from under his long hair, surprisingly shiny despite their lack of hygiene, eyes watering. “We'll take a decision in a couple of days, okay?” 

Jongin nods, sniffing and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. Jongdae hates himself for the glint of hope he sees all over Jongin's retinas, but he's so relieved at the same time that Jongin hasn't started crying. He scoots closer to Jongin and wraps an arm around his shoulders. Jongin immediately leans into the touch, looking so small and so fragile. Jongdae doesn't know the rest of Jongin's group, but he's spent a week with Jongin, and he knows how fast the latter is. He wasn't surprised to find out Jongin was a dancer before, because it shows in the slightest gesture, and it's probably what saved him, that day in the forest. He had been quick to react, and even quicker to flee, and the Infected were too caught up in the bloodbath to notice that one of their preys got out. Thirteen is a lot. With a smaller group, with only three or four Immune, the Infected would have seen Jongin running away, and they wouldn't have let him go so easily. 

In a way, Jongin has been right all this time. Staying with a large number of people can save your life, but not exactly in the way he meant it.

“It's full of food,” Jongin whispers, jerking Jongdae out of his thoughts. 

“Uh?”

“The warehouse. It's full of food. We restocked when we came here the first time, but there was so much food we couldn't take it all. Seulgi said,” Jongin winces, “that a group probably made the warehouse into their headquarters, and then left. Or got killed.”

Jongdae glances at the warehouse. They'll probably find a bag for Jongin inside, and then they'll be able to pack more food. His mouth waters at the products he imagines lying inside the building, sweets, candies, savory snacks, and even, why not, some dried fish. Dried meat. Ramen cups. Jongdae would give his everything for a cup of tea. He freezes. What if they find some coffee beans? 

Jongdae's stomach grumbles, and he makes a face, flashing an apologetic smile at Jongin, who seems quite amused. 

“I'll cook you something, if you want,” Jongin says. 

“It's a deal,” Jongdae grins. 

Jongin chuckles lowly, huddling even closer to Jongdae until he can press his temple against Jongdae's shoulder. Jongdae tries to come up with a new topic to keep Jongin's mind away from the high possibility of his friends being dead, but his brain blanks out as Jongin's wordlessly picks blades of grass here and there around them. It's been so long since the last time he got a conversation that didn't revolve around death or the Infected, or anything end of the world related. 

“I miss fried chicken the most,” Jongin finally sighs. “Honey chicken...”

Jongdae groans. 

“Tteokbokki,” he adds, and Jongin licks his lips. 

“Bulgogi, bibimbap.”

“Mmmh, fried rice,” Jongdae moans. “Japchae.”

Jongin sighs longingly as he lets himself fall against the stone. Jongdae watches him with a smile. 

“Galbijim,” they both say in unison. 

Jongin half groans half laughs as he burries his face in his hands, and Jongdae cackles when his stomach decides to join. He's missed it, somehow. Talking, laughing, living. It'll probably be easier not to forget everything again if he brings Jongin with him, and Jongdae wants to believe he can face the risks, that he's smart enough to thwart them. He'll probably regret it but for now, all he wants to do is compare Jongin's mother's recipes of kimbap with his own. 

 

 

“If I remember correctly, there are some sleeping bags over there,” Jongin says, pointing at the right side of the warehouse. 

Jongdae squints at the said spot, and indeed makes out a few sheets crumbled on the floor, in the middle of what looks like a room whose walls consists of a few high metallic shelves. He glances around them for the second time, taken aback by the vastness of the warehouse, and by the abundance of food. There must be over a hundred of shelves, all of them cleanly lined up in long corridors with no ends. Despite the first few rays of sunshine grazing the tiny windows perched at the top of huge walls, the back of the warehouse is still swallowed by lingering shadows. Jongdae swallows down, the mix of the amount of food around him with the nerve-wracking interior of the warehouse leaves him confused, fidgeting. He's not sure if he should freak out or cry out of joy.

“Hyung?”

Jongdae looks away from the hypnotizing darkness at the end of the corridor before him, and turns towards Jongin. 

“Uh, yeah, sorry I was just... This place is kinda scary.”

Jongin chuckles, the sound rasping in the silence, echoing agaisnt the shelves, and Jongdae shudders. 

“Yeah, I was scared the first time too, but we stayed there like three days and nothing happened. Now it feels like home, sort of.”

 _Oh, Jongin_ , Jongdae thinks. There are no homes anymore. There can't be. Jongdae glances at the shelves again and sighs. 

“Okay,” he says. “Just go over there and try to find yourself a bag. We'll stuff it with food.”

Jongin nods. “What about you?”

Jongdae hesitates, throwing a look over his shoulder. 

“I'm going to explore, I guess?”

Jongin smiles and nods for the second time, before turning over and heading to the sheets. His gait is as dancing and light as it always is, but there's something different this time, in the way he sways his arms on his sides or lets his head bob right to left along with his strides. Jongdae almost expects him to start humming, as he winces everytime Jongin's soles clash against the ground, the sound amplified by the emptiness around them. Jongin's lack of caution and how easy he looks only makes Jongdae more nervous. He watches the younger male slip between two shelves and start ruffling through the stuff left there by a previous group. _It's okay,_ Jongdae chants in his mind. But he can't help the bad feeling from boiling, bitter and burning, in the pit of his stomach. 

He sighs and turns over, facing the corridors again. Out there, the sun is rising, slowly but surely, and the shy rays, that were blocked by the thick layer of dust gathered on the windows, are now turning into more powerful and overwhelming explosions of light. It's actually beautiful, how the sunlight is cascading from the windows. The borders between light and darkness are precise, neat. There is no merging in, no in between, only darkness, and light. It's the perfect cohabitation between the two opposites. 

Jongdae sighs, drawing out his machete from his belt. Its handle used to leave nasty blisters in his palm, but his fingers now curl around it instinctively, molding the curves. 

“Let's go,” Jongdae whispers for himself, and after one last glance at Jongin still ruffling through the pile of clothes and random material, he walks straight into the first corridor. 

The warehouse appears even bigger from between the shelves, so high that they block the sight on the building's walls, but Jongdae stays calm and focused. He checks his watch when he takes his first step, and checks it again when he reaches the end of that first corridor. He goggles at the numbers, and does the maths. He took him seven minutes to get there, and he wasn't exactly walking slowly. Thanks to the emptiness above his head though, he can still hear Jongin at the other side of the warehouse, and from the noises Jongdae's catching, the younger male has started collecting some food—cans are clicking, sharp in the silence. Jongdae decides it's best not to scream Jongin's name, day or not, anything can still hear them, and he finally decides to take a closer look at the goods around him. 

“Oh,” he hums in surprise when he catches sight of the packets on the closer shelf. He hesitates, and puts his machete back in his belt, the familiar weight feeling so comforting against his hipbone.

Jongdae walks to the shelf, drowned in sunlight from a tiny missing part of the roof far above his head, and grabs the bag of fortune cookies. Mouth watering, he glances at the dozens of similar packets, and decides that eating one or two right now won't kill. He opens the bag, salivary glands already celebrating, and takes a cookie that he breaks in two. He pulls out the message, and immediately shoves the first half in his mouth. It doesn't taste bad, not at all, and the hint of vanilla explodes in Jongdae's mouth, divine and so so delicious. Jongdae hums in pleasure, probably not chewing enough before he swallows it, and stuffs the other half in his mouth. It's only then that he draws back his attention on the message still folded between his fingers. He unfolds it, licking his lips, and srunches up his nose at the Chinese characters. He actually knows a little bit of Mandarin, but mostly pinyin and oral Mandarin. For the characters, though... He hesitates. Isn't that one _love_? Jongdae snorts. 

He shoves the opened bag of cookies into his bag, and takes a couple more. Now that the food has picked his interest, Jongdae takes a few steps along the lines of cookie bags to check what the next good is. He feels the corners of his lips curving into a smile when he comes face to face with a few bags of cashew nuts. 

“Great,” he mutters as he reaches out. 

His mind doesn't process what happens next right away. The moment his fingers are about to close on the bag, said bag slips out of his reach, showing the corridor behind the shelf. Except that instead of the square of darkness Jongdae should be seeing right now, there's a face attached to a body whose hands are tightly secured around the bag of nuts. 

Jongdae gasps, heart jumping straight into his throat, and the stranger smiles, his black eyes flashing mischief at Jongdae. It's a man, looking about Jongdae's age, but much more taller, if the way he's bending down to look through the hole when Jongdae is standing straight is any indication. The quiet mirth in his pupils softens the coldness of his features. He has thin eyebrows, sharp and mimicking anger, as if the man was frowning at Jongdae, but the smile threatening to take over his face does a much better work at showcasing the stranger's expressions. Jongdae spots freckles splattered here and there on the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones, freckles that Jongdae supposes are sun-induced since the delicate skin on the tip of the man's nose looks like it's been burnt from too long exposure to the sun. Except that it can't be, because no one stays in broad daylight now, it's too dangerous, suicidal even, but from how tanned the man is, Jongdae can only guess that he doesn't play by the rules.

It's enough to bring Jongdae back from his surprise, and he steps back, hands flying to his belt and closing around his machete. 

“Who the fuck are you?” he snaps coldly. 

The man's eyes lower to the blade between Jongdae's fingers, but he looks merely amused, and Jongdae takes another step back. 

There's a loud sound at the entrance of the warehouse, cans and shelves falling to the ground, and Jondgae startles, breath caught in the back of his throat. Before he can even start worrying though, Jongin's voice lashes the air, powerful and more terrified that Jongdae has ever heard it. 

“JONGDAE!”

Adrenaline fills Jongdae's vision. He puts back his bag on his shoulders, and dashes towards Jongin, boosted by liquid fear. He hears some ruffling behind his back, and he looks over his shoulders, half expecting the stranger to be running after him. He catches sight of him up in the air though, and it takes Jongdae a few blinks to realize that the boy is climbing up a rope, his long legs blocking it between his thighs and leather mittens protecting his palms from the harsh feeling of the rope against his skin. The rope is leading him straight to the roof, where that tiny piece of roof is missing, and Jongdae wants to punch himself for not noticing the rope before. He throws one last anxious look at the large bow secured around the man's torso before drawing back his attention on the corridor, the end of it only a few meters ahead. 

One thing at a time, and right now the priority is Jongin, so when Jongdae finally barges into the entrance hall of the warehouse, he doesn't waste any time gasping at the Infected, instead focusing on trying to find Jongin. He finds him at the top of a shelf, trying to kick the bony arms stretched up towards his ankles, with terrified eyes. Jongdae stops dead in his tracks, trying to count how many Infected there are, but they're moving too fast, their gestures hysterical and bestial. They're all gathered at the feet of the shelf, groaning and flashing their rotted teeth at Jongin, walking on each other to try and reach their prey. Jongin whimpers when scrawny fingers graze his ankle.

Jongdae retreats back into the corridor, crouching down to peek at the Infected. His heart is beating so fast against his temples, he blocks most of the inhuman screams the Infected are letting out. He reaches inside his bag with shaking fingers, and grabs one of the sockets, immediately pulling out the tube of blood. From what he's seeing, Jongin isn't bleeding, he must have climbed up the shelf before he got hurt, and if Jongdae's plan ends up working, this is what will save them. 

The muscles in his arm tense as Jongdae clenches his jaws, gathering as much strength as he can. He throws the tube on the other side of the hall, as far as he can, and hears it blowing up to pieces against the floor. The Infected's reactions are immediate. They turn around, and run to the blood splattered on the ground, forgetting all about Jongin, and not noticing Jongdae still hidden in the darkness of his shelves. He watches them run past him, some of them with erratic strides and other reduced to the state of animals as they walk on all fours, faster than any dog Jongdae's ever seen. Most of them are topless, their pants or shorts in such a badly state that they appear naked, but they're all covered in dust and dirt, and it's sticking to them like a second skin. Some of them are wounded, large cuts opened on red and bones, but none of them are bleeding. Infected don't bleed, their blood is too thick for that, and since the wounds don't really close, pus is turning them green. 

Jongdae waits until they ran past him to jump out of his hiding spot and sprint towards Jongin. 

“Hyung,” the latter says in relief when he sees him, his voice cracking and shaking. 

“Down, down down,” Jongdae hurries him with jerky gestures. He glances at the Infected over his shoulders, body tingling with adrenaline, urging him to get the fuck out of here _now_. “Jongin,” he moans in a whisper, begging the younger boy to come down faster. 

He jumps when Jongin is within his reach, and grabs him by the belt, almost making him fall on the ground, but they have to hurry. He helps Jongin getting back up on his feet and pushes him towards the doors. A ear-splitting shout echoes behind them, and Jongdae freezes, turning around to see the group of Infected, gathered around the few drops of blood on the floor. One of them is standing tall, the others furiously licking the floor. Jongdae even spots what used to be a woman on all fours on the back of two Infected, literally tearing their hair out to try and force them to let her some room. Jongin whimpers next to him, but Jongdae can't really blame him, because the man standing on his feet is looking at them, the last pieces of his humanity forgotten in the furious and carnivorous expression he's now sporting. He's looking at them like he knows that the blood at his feet is a trap, like he knows who to blame for that. 

Jongdae steps back when the Infected flashes his teeth at him, and he feels his own courage dissolve when he notices the piece of meat stuck between the Infected's front teeth. _Human meat_.

“Run,” Jongdae whispers, keeping the eye contact with what looks like the alpha of the pack. “Jongin, run.”

Jongin moans, terrified, but he stars running right away, heading towards the doors. Jongdae turns on his heels to follow suit, but another stridulent scream stabs his eardrums. He keens, shrinking on himself, and tries to speed up, well aware that the Infected has probably thrown his 'friends' at him. Jongin runs past the doors before him, and they slam, flashing a strap of daylight every two seconds. Jongdae is close, so close that when he reaches out, he's sure his palm will crash against the doors and open them. But he never reaches the door.

A hand grabs his bag and pulls him backwards with so much strength that Jongdae's feet leave the floor for a moment, and he watches, horrified, the doors getting farther away as the world freezes around him. He sees his fingers open and close around nothing, and _oh_ how he wishes there was a doorknob under his fingers. He hopes Jongin is far already. 

By chance, the Infected keeps his hand clenched around his bag, even when Jongdae lands abruptly on the concrete, his bones cracking and body seized by pain. He whines loudly, fighting off the darkness he feels lurking around the edges of his vision. Now's not the time to faint. He wiggles, tries to look behind him as the Infected lugs him, and panics when he catches sight of all the Infected gathered at the feet of the alpha one, licking their chapped lips looking at him. 

Jongdae squirms, raising his arms over his head, and slips out of his bag straps. He hurries to get back on his feet, and rushes to the doors, leaving his precious backpack behind. But at least, he's alive. 

The light on the other side blinds him, and Jongdae winces, instinctively raising his arms to shield himself from the brightness. He hears the doors fly open behind him and speeds up, needles of sunlight stabbing him in the eyes. When colors finally get back to their usual spot, and he can finally see where's he's running, he's meet by the sight of Jongin running towards him. The latter must have turned back when he noticed Jongdae wasn't following him. 

“What the fuck are you doing? Run!" Jongdae screams, and the air leaves in lungs in angry intonations. 

Jongin skids, and throws his body in the opposite direction before it even comes to an halt. His long legs eat the meters easily, but Jongdae doesn't lag behind. The sounds coming from behind him are more than enough to pump more adrenaline through his veins, and he finally catches Jongin. The latter throws a look over his shoulder, and dread takes over his eyes. Jongdae doesn't need to look to know that the Infected are getting closer. They're fast, much faster than they are as plain human beings. Jongdae doesn't have any tube of blood on himself anymore, but even if he had, he's pretty sure it wouldn't work. The Infected are too close, their instincts directed straight at them. If Jongdae and Jongin want to survive, they'll have to play it smart. In the end, it's all about quick decisions. 

Jongdae grabs Jongin's wrist and forces him to follow his brutal change of direction. Their speed throws them both against the high wooden fence that surrounds a house, and the impact has Jongdae moaning with pain. Adrenaline is drowning the aftermath of his fall in the warehouse, but he knows the pain will catch up sooner or later. He'd rather be out of the Infected's reach when it will, because he's pretty sure he sprained his shoulder and maybe cracked one or two ribs. 

“Hyung,” Jongin pants next to him. 

Jongdae nods, stopping Jongin from asking and losing too much precious air. One quick glance over his shoulder tells him that the tiny lead they got from their sudden change of direction is lessening considerably now that they're back running in a straight line. Even hiding in a house wouldn't save them now, the Infected are close, _so_ close... 

Jongdae gasps, and Jongin looks at him with hope glowing in his eyes. The houses!

“We need to--” Jongdae winces, trying to breath in more air than what he breathes out, in vain. “The roofs...”

Jongin's eyes shot open-wide and he nods before glancing around. He speeds up, head lowered as his body rips through the air, and Jongdae watches him jumping over a smaller fence and heading for the back's porch of the house. He understands when his eyes catches sight of the eaves casting shadows over the tiny patio, and follows Jongin, jumping over the fence as well. He hears the Infected scream in frustration as they run past the fence, unable to slow down enough to turn. 

“Imma give you a leg up,” Jongin tells him, breathless and urging. “I'm taller, and you'll help me climb up, okay?”

Jongdae furiously nods, unable to talk right away, and without further delay, he puts his foot on Jongin's linked hands. The latter pushes him up with so much strength that Jongdae almost loses his balance, taken aback. He manages to block his grip on the eaves with his elbows though, and yells in pain when fire explodes in his shoulders. The Infected's screams are coming back to them, and it's enough to make him forget everything about the pain now shooting through his whole arm. He hauls himself on the eaves and lies down on his stomach, streching both of his arms over the edge. Jongin jumps and wraps his fingers around Jongdae's wrists, and the pain is back, stronger. Jongdae immediately starts weeping as he tries to pull Jongin up, but the latter's feet remain glued to the floor. 

“Hyung, hyung, hyung,” Jongin begs him, terrified. 

“I know, I'm sorry, just... Jump Jongin and I'll catch you,” Jongdae sobs.

He crawls closer to the edge of the eaves and let the upper half of his torso dangle, spreading his fingers to try and have a better grip on Jongin. The latter throws a frightened look at the Infected now jumping over the fence, and looks up at Jongdae, pleading. 

“JUMP JONGIN,” Jongdae roars, bracing himself for the next wave of pain. 

Jongin jumps and they both scream when Jongdae's hands close around Jongin's forearm. 

“Hyung please, please,” Jongin starts crying. 

The eaves consist of a large slab of plastic screwed up to two poles, so Jondgae can easily looks down, and when he does, he gags at the sight. 

The Infected have reached Jongin, and they're all gathered around his dangling legs, and they're bitting his calves, scratching his legs, almost purring at the blood dripping on their faces.

Jongdae closes his eyes and bites his lips as he forces on his arms, tries to haul Jongin up on the eaves. He feels his mind teetering dangerously on insanity as both pain and horror flood him, but he doesn't let go. They're grabbing Jongin, trying to pull him down, but Jongin is kicking them as hard as he can, and it looks like it's working. Relief washes over him, and Jongdae allows himself another sob as he tightens his grip on Jongin's arms. 

That's when Jongdae's hears it. In the middle of the groans, Jongin's sobs and all that commotion, he hears it. He opens his eyes, frozen, and looks over at the right pole. The plastic is cracking, threatening to break at any moment. It's too thin, too fragile, Jongdae understands. It will never support both his and Jongin's weights.

The world has come down to quick decisions. It doesn't even take Jongdae a second to realise that the familiar weight against his hipbone has disappeared, and to understand that his gun might have flew out of his belt when he fell in the warehouse. He knows he can't fight off eight Infected alone with his machete. He knows the plastic roof won't support his and Jongin's weights. 

He lets go of Jongin's hands. 

The latter falls with a terrified holler, the sound of his landing muffled by the biting noises, the groans, the jaws clicking, but Jongin, Jongin keeps screaming. Jongdae curls up on the eaves, weeping as he presses his palms over his ears, but he still hears it. The precise moment Jongin's screams drop an octave lower as if they were muffled, or yelled from under the water, more gurgles than screams. The smell of blood floods the air around him, invades Jongdae's mouth, so strong, so ferrous, and Jongin's voice dies down, leaves place to the bones cracking. Jongdae recognizes the thick sounds of blood being splattered, and he throws up, bile burning the back of his throat.

The plastic cracks again, dangerously grating as something hits the pole, and the impact has the makeshift eaves shaking. Jongdae gasps, pressing his palms on the plastic as if it could stop it from yielding, the gesture shooting a weak shot of adrenaline in his arm in a poor attempt to lessen the burning pain. The sun is shining bright above Jongdae's head, warmth already catching him, and it has all his instincts on red alert. He needs to get out of here before more Infected join those under him. Without his bag and his gun, and he can't expect to live through the day if he doesn't take any precautions. 

He bites his lips and shifts on all fours, wincing when the plastic cracks louder, but refuses to glance down to look for any cracks. His whole body shaking, Jondgae slowly stands up, arms stretched on his side for balance. He considers the roof for a short second and hauls himself on it, muffling his sobs by biting harshly on the collar of his shirt. It's only then that he realises that he partly threw up on himself. 

He doesn't allow himself to stop after that. He gets back on his feet, pretending that his legs don't shake, and starts running towards the next roof. Then the third one, the fourth. He keeps jumping until he can't tell apart the pain from the adrenaline in his body, because they both burn enough to make him cry. He jumps from one roof to another until he reaches the opposite border of the city, but even then, he jumps. He doesn't care if there isn't any roof for him to land on, he's just going to jump, and fall, and maybe die there, or pass out and never wake up because he'll be bleeding and they'll come for him.

Jongdae falls straight into a huge bush, the tiny branches digging into the skin of his back, and the impact is strong enough to knock the air out of him. He curls up, mouth opened on an intake of air that doesn't come, and doesn't question the stars slowly invading his field of vision. He hears someone cry, but it sounds oddly like him. He has half a mind to open his eyes and check if someone's there, or if he's really become mad, but he passes out before he can even think about cracking an eye open.


	2. Chapter 2

There's a strong smell of lavender piercing the darkness, and Jongdae's conscience stirrs awake, attracted by the odd familiarity coming with the scent. It's still pitched black around him, black on his eyelids and in his mind, but he knows that, no matter how long he's been unconscious, that same smell has been around him. Just like he knows that the feminine voice, soft and light, now humming so close to him has lulled him for the past hours—days? For the first time since Jongdae passed out though, both the smell and the voice get to him, and panic starts swelling in his chest. 

He tries to control his breathing, so that the woman near him doesn't notice that he's awake, and forces his eyeballs to remain motionless. The slightest flicker on his eyelids could be deadly. She could be cleaning under her nails with a dangerously sharpened knife right now, and Jongdae's carotid is too close to her for him to take any risk. His conscience is still swimming under water, struggling to reach the surface, but one by one, his senses all come back to him. 

The woman shifts next to him, her voice suddenly closer, and the following second, Jongdae can feel her breath fanning his face. She's still singing, obviously not daring to let her voice follow the flights of lyricism, but she still hits some of the notes pretty well. So well, actually, that Jongdae can make out the song, a pop song he remembers hearing on some random TV shows, promoted by a lively girl group. The smell of lavender is stronger, until it gets almost overwhelming when a delicate hand lightly pats Jongdae's neck, leaving a moist patch behind. _She's putting some lavender oil on me_ , Jongdae realises, dumbfounded. 

“Hey Yeri,” says a very different voice, a man's voice. “Fancy some dried apricots?” 

Jongdae tenses, the slender fingers still against his neck, and he realises his mistake too late. He relaxes, his heart beating erratically in his chest. 

“Oh,” the woman says. “Yeah, why not? Thank you, oppa.” 

Jongdae catches some more ruffling next to him, but he doesn't really pay attention, as it all crashes down on him. The name, Yeri, and the mark of respect—even the song takes on its full meaning now as it rings through Jongdae's mind as that one stupid song Jongin used to hum from time to time. 

Too caught up in the cold realisation, he doesn't feel the woman scooting closer again until it's too late. 

“You can open your eyes now,” she says straight into Jondgae's ear. “We're all alone.”

Jongdae's eyes shoot open wide, his heart jumping into his throat, and the first thing he sees is the woman's face hovering over him. _Girl_ would actually be a more fitting term, Jongdae immediately realises as she flashes him a dimpled smile. He dimly remembers Jongin saying that Yeri, _his_ Yeri, was only seventeen years old. Jongdae doesn't doubt that this Yeri is Jongin's Yeri. 

“I'm sorry,” she says with a warm smile. “I didn't want to scare you, but I felt you tense when Taehyung oppa was talking, so I figured you might like it better if it was just the two of us.” She pauses, just enough to breath in, and immediately continues. “I'm Yeri, and I took care of you while you were unconscious. We found you in a bush near a house, and you're lucky we did, because you were bleeding—Oh but just a little, don't worry! We use lavender oil for tiny wounds, we found out a couple of months ago that, oddly enough, they couldn't smell the blood over the lavender. Funny, right? You wouldn't believe how we found out though. You see, I've put on two drops of lavender oil for so long even after the Misty Days, just there” she points at her earlobe. “--behind my ear, and well, that day we--”

“Please shut up,” Jongdae groans. 

Yeri watches him, far from looking offended, her smile still perched on her face. She's on her knees next to him, her delicate hands spread on her naked thighs. She's wearing a dress, Jongdae notices, a little surprised, and a pair of short leggings to make up for the short skirt. Her hair is long, tangled and dry, but still cascading over her shoulders with a certain grace, and even the dirt on her face isn't enough to cover how pretty and young she is. 

Jongdae looks away, bile rising up in his oesophagus. They're inside a plain house, all the shutters closed and the lack of light sliding through the cracks tells Jongdae it's dark outside. The only light in the almost empty room comes from a lantern placed directly on the floor, its glow of a cold pale blue, just like those mosquito repellent lanterns Jongdae's family used to put in the garden during summer nights. Yeri didn't lie, they're all alone in the room, but one quick look to his belt and Jongdae understands that she didn't take any risk. His machete is gone. 

“Ah yes,” Yeri grimaces, following Jongdae's eyes. “Seulgi took your weapon, just in case. She'll give it back, don't worry.”

Jongdae sits up, and a peak of pain makes him groan. He looks down to find his arm immobilized by what looks like an old shirt tied up around his neck. He glances at Yeri. 

“How long have I been out?” he asks. 

“One day and a half.” She looks so pleased to know the answer. “Like I said, we found you in that bush when we arrived in the city. We've been waiting for you to wake up ever since.”

Jongdae slowly nods, looking down at his wounded arm. He wiggles his fingers, and winces at the light pain echoing through his bones. It's not as strong as it was in the first place though, and it's good news. His shoulder was probably dislocated and now that it's been put back in joint, it's already a little bit better. It still makes him the easiest prey for the Infected though. 

“Here,” Yeri says, handing him a small basket full of dried apricots. “Have some fruits. It's all we have for now, because we lost our food after an attack a week ago. But Seulgi, Kyungsoo and Junmyeon have left food hunting a few hours ago. There's a warehouse on the other side of the city, so they'll have plenty of food when they'll be back.”

“No,” Jongdae tenses. “That warehouse.. I was there, we—I got attacked there.” 

Yeri freezes. 

“You sure?” she asks hesitantly. “When we first came here a few weeks ago, it was a safe place...”

“Yeah,” Jongdae snaps back. “ _Was_.” 

He glares at her, shifting so he can get back on his feet, but Yeri immediately comes back from the look of pure fear on her face to stop him, her hands now stronger on Jongdae's sane shoulder. 

“What do you think you're doing?” she asks him, accusing. “I'm not letting you go, you're too weak. Eat your fruits.”

“But--”

“Now,” she cuts him, her voice commanding. 

In the span of a few seconds, she aged of a few years, and her dark eyes, warm and smiling the second before, are now cutting and heavy on Jongdae. He immediately shoves an apricot in his mouth, frowning. Yeri narrows her eyes at him as Jongdae chews the dried fruit, her frown only disappearing when he swallows it. 

“Great,” Yeri says. “Now you wait here. And you eat.”

She gets back on her feet and walks out of the room, leaving Jongdae behind with his basket of apricots on his knees. He tilts his head on the side to try and glances through the door she left wide open, but aside from her footsteps getting distant, he doesn't see nor hear anything. He does catches sight of the front door though, and the furniture gathered against it to block it. It's a clever move, but one that can be achieved only when there are several pair of arms to lift the couches and tables. Jongdae looks around again, mindlessly munching on another apricot, and notices the absence of other beddings in the room, which means that Yeri's friends aren't stupid enough to sleep next to him when they don't know him. 

Jongdae licks his lips, eye scanning the room for a bottle of water, but he resolves to eat another apricot when he finds none. From what Yeri has told him, the warehouse is at the opposite side of the city, which means that Jongin and Jongdae had absolutely zero chance of meeting Yeri's group where they were waiting. They would have made it eventually though, in the warehouse or in the city. They were so close... 

His stomach giving a worrying jump, Jongdae puts the basket away, his hunger vanished. 

“What did I say about eating?”

Jongdae looks up, and his eyes settle on Yeri standing on the threshold of the room with now three of her friends by her side. There's only one boy, who looks barely older than Yeri, and Jongdae identifies him as Taehyung right away. His long bangs held back by a grey beanie leave plenty of room on his forehead for his thick eyebrows, now furrowed at Jongdae, more intrigued than suspicious though. The smaller of the two remaining girls is partly hidden behind Yeri, but Jongdae still makes out a round face and a flat nose. He doesn't catch more details though, because his gaze is immediately drawn to the last girl, who is now stepping up with fierce and questioning eyes. 

“Tell me exactly what happened in the warehouse,” she asks him with autority.

She's obviously the one in charge while the others are gone, and she makes sure Jongdae understands it. But under the layer of power she's wearing, Jongdae easily spots concern for her friends, and most importantly, the ability of actually _do_ something about it, which isn't Yeri's speciality, obviously. 

“I wanted to used it as a shelter for the day,” Jongdae says, purposely making it sound like he was alone. “But I got attacked by a group of Infected _inside_. I reckon there must be a nest not far.”

The girl's eyes narrow at him as she gauges him, and Jongdae holds her gaze. She looks smaller than him, but he wouldn't take her as weak anyway. There's something dangerous about her, and not only because she's sporting two holsters, one hanging low on her small waist for her gun, and the other wrapped around her thigh for a hunting knife. She looks like she wouldn't hesitate to use either of her weapons, and without his own machete, Jongdae can't do anything. He knows how to look submissive though, so he looks down, blinking two or three times, and emphasizes his gesture by biting his inner cheek. 

“Soojung...?” asks the younger girl, her fingers clenched around her leader's arm. “What if they stumbled upon the Infected...?”

Jongdae glances through his bangs, and catches the leader—Soojung, bitting on her lower lip. 

“I'm going to find them,” she says suddenly. The smaller girl's grip tightens on her arm, and Soojung softly strokes her hair. “Don't worry, I'll come back.” 

She glances at Jongdae. “How many were they?” 

“Eight.” 

She nods, pulling the younger girl away and slowly pushing her into Yeri's arms. 

“If I find them in time, it'll be four against eight. It's doable,” she whispers, more for herself than for the others, then blinks and her gaze focuses on Jongdae again before she turns towards Taehyung and Yeri. 

“Watch him. I'll be back in no time.”

Yeri nods, glancing at Jongdae, and Soojung sighs. She checks her weapons while Taehyung walks to the window and opens the shutters. Soojung follows suit, tying her hair in a messy bun on the top of her head. She was probably blonde a year ago, but the golden highlights have now died down to a sickly yellowish colour, and the twelve centimeters or so that her hair gained over the past month are pitched black. The two opposite colors look weird, clashing, when Soojung's long hair cascades on her back, but it's almost pretty when it's tied up. The two-colored strand falling on the side of her face crack the innocence her face conveys when it's not framed by her hair. Jongdae can't help but think that she looks like a modern witch, kind of. 

Soojung bestrides the window, and looks at them again, her hands on the ledge for balance and one of her legs dangling outside. 

“You're in charge,” she tells Taehyung, who promptly nods. “See you later,” she adds with a light wink before jumping on the other side. 

She doesn't make a sound when she lands, and Jongdae catches sight of her running across the lawn, feline and totally silent, just before Taehyung closes the shutters. The girl, still clinging to Yeri, lets out a shaky sob, and Taehyng takes her into what looks like a warm embrace. He pats the back of her head, reassuring. 

“Don't worry Suhyunie, they'll all come back.” 

Jongdae's eyes probably linger for a second too long on Taehyung and the little girl - _Suhyun_ \- because Yeri, previously carding her fingers through Suhyun's messy hair, looks at him. She frowns. 

“Eat,” she commands. 

And Jongdae finds himself unable to argue, instead diligently stuffing his mouth with two dried apricots under Yeri's pleased gaze. 

 

 

“So,” Jongdae starts. “Yeri, right?”

The latter, sat next to him, lets out a small chuckle. Soojung has been gone for an hour and a half, but considering the city's size, there's nothing worrying yet. She probably reached the warehouse less than thirty minutes ago, and only if she kept the pace she had when she left the house. In the meanwhile, the four of them have stayed in the same room Jongdae woke up in. Taehyung though, kept his distance, carefully choosing a spot on the other side of the room and dragging Suhyun with him. The latter is now fast asleep, her head on Taehyun's lap who keeps stroking her hair. Yeri wasn't as cautious, since she took back her spot next to Jongdae, forcing him to eat all the apricots left, and giving him some water to drink. She splattered more lavender oil on his back, where the skin has been scratched by his fall from the roof, and Jongdae clenched his jaws through the stinging sensation. They were sitting in silence for more than half an hour when he finally spoke. 

“Yeah,” Yeri nods. “That's not my name, actually. It was my favorite singer's stage name. I figured she wouldn't mind me taking it.” 

“Oh,” Jongdae says, not really knowing what else to say. 

He finds himself gravitating around Yeri like a hawk moth attracted by a lantern, his mind constantly drawing links between her and Jongin, no matter how much it hurts. He's been fighting himself for the past hour, trying to swallow down all his questions because he knows how bad of an idea it is, but they finally splurt out on their own. He gives in –too easily— but watches all her reactions almost hungrily. 

“You mentionned an attack a week ago?” he asks. 

Luckily for him, he's a great actor and it saved him a couple of time, so faking nonchalance instead of the burning curiosity he feels right now isn't too hard. He's done the maths. Jongin said they were fourteen in the beginning. Yeri mentionned three of them left food hunting. Soojung has left too, and there are three of them left in the house. Which would mean only seven survivors out of fourteen. Jongdae doesn't care really, but something is urging him, strong and insistent under his skin. He needs to know what happened and who died. 

“Yeah,” Yeri breathes out. She glances at Taehyung whose eyes are already on them, dark but not angry. Just... sad. “We usually don't get caught by daylight,” Yeri continues. “But that day was different. We had... well..”

Talking about it is obviously difficult for her, but Jongdae doesn't say anything. He needs to know. 

“Seokjin was sick,” Taehyung intervenes. Suhyun stirrs in his lap, and he pulls up the blanket he threw on her earlier. “Seokjin was my friend,” he informs Jongdae. 

“It was his appendix,” Yeri continues. “It burst, and he was in pain. It was just a stupid appendicitis, but in the current times..”

Jongdae nods, understanding. _Deadly._

“We tried to help him though,” she keeps going. “We had no other choice than to open him, so we used a lot of lavender oil, but it took longer than we thought it would, and before we knew it, it was sunrise. There was too much blood, and eventually the lavender oil stopped working.”

Jongdae glances at Taehyung, whose eyes are lowered, veiled and glassy. When he draws back his attention on Yeri, he finds her watching Taehyung too, sad and sorry. She blinks and looks at Jongdae. 

“We had to leave him open on the grass when the Infected started coming. There was so many of them... We lost six of us that day, including Suhyun's older brother, Chanhyuk.” 

Jongdae tries to swallow down the lump in his throat, in vain. He looks down at his fingers, Jongin filing his mind. He wonders what kind of relationship Jongin and Chanhyuk had. 

“And we also lost Jongin, he--” Yeri pauses, her voice losing its soft tone for a more breathy one, a shakier one. “He took another way out of the forest, and we can't find him.. That's why we're here, the warehouse is supposed to be a safe place, and our meeting spot when we get separated, but you said it was full of Infected and--”

Her voice breaks, and she looks away. Jongdae's heart beats so fast in his chest that he feels it pressing against his ribcage. 

“Jongin is alive, Yeri,” Taehyun says, sharp and strong. “He'll be there soon. Don't worry.” He pauses, and looks at Jongdae. “Have you seen anyone else in the warehouse? Or traces of anyone?”

Jongdae shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak. Next to him, Yeri gives Taehyung a small smile as she folds back her legs against her chest. 

“I'm sorry,” Jongdae adds, probably more for himself than for Yeri, but she still looks at him with kindness, her dimpled smile back on her lips as she reaches out and pats him on the arm. 

“Don't be—,” she pauses, then opens her eyes wide. “I didn't even ask for your name?”

“Jongdae,” Jongdae shrugs. 

“Nice to meet you, Jongdae,” Yeri chirps, her smile widening. “How old are you?”

“Twenty four,” Jongdae frowns, hoping that, maybe, she'll get the hint. 

“Oh.” She obviously doesn't. “ _Oppa_. You're the oldest here. Taeyung oppa is twenty-one, and both Suhyunie and I are seventeen.”

She looks as happy as Jongin was to be able to use some honorifics, so happy that Jongdae can't find it in himself to look at her. He glances at Taehyung instead, and finds him looking at Yeri with the shadow of a smile tugging at his lips, and warm and amused eyes. 

“Anyway, don't worry oppa,” Yeri keeps going. “Taehyung oppa is right. Jongin will be there soon. He probably found someone and it took some convincing to bring them here. See, Jongin as a thing for strays, and I really wouldn't be surprised-- right oppa?” she asks, turning her head towards Taehyung who promptly nods. 

“I'm tired,” Jongdae blurts out as Yeri finally catches her breath. His heart is pumping ice through his veins, and he quickly looks away, fleeing her surprised glance. 

“Oh,” she says with big worried eyes. “Of course you are. Wait, I'll--” 

She scrunches up her nose and shifts on all fours, reaching out to grab the blanket Jongdae woke up on earlier. She pulls it towards her and hands him to Jongdae. 

“Here,” she continues. “Don't worry, Taehyung oppa and I, we'll--”

“Yeah,” Jongdae cuts her, groaning. “I'm not worried.”

He grabs the blanket, ignoring Yeri's confused look at his sharp gesture, and wraps himself in the blanket before turning on his side, his back to Yeri. 

He's not really tired, but he has to play his part now, especially if closing his eyes and pretending to fall asleep can save him from Yeri's rambling. It's not that easy, as Jongdae quickly finds out though, because in the new silence filling the room, all he can hear are Taehyung, Suhyun and Yeri's breathing. The irony of it all doesn't escape him, the fact that Yeri was the one finding him minutes, not more than an hour, after he let Jongin died. It feels like it's a very bad joke the universe is playing on him, but Jongdae isn't amused, at all. 

He slightly shifts so that his wounded shoulder presses against the wooden floor, hoping that the pain shooting through his arm will be enough to take his mind off Jongin. He's not really surprised that it doesn't though, and the lump in his throat only gets bigger with every second passing by watching Jongin's terrified eyes play over and over again on the back of eyelids. At least he's learned that the attack of Jongin's group wasn't because of the blood he pourred on the frontsteps of Luhan's house, which doesn't really help actually, because now he's thinking about that boy with the infected appendix they tried to help despite all the blood it would involve. What would have been the outcome if it had been Jongin up that roof? _Easy one_ , Jongdae thinks. Jongin was there when they all made the decision to cut the boy open, wasn't he? He probably came up with the idea himself. And Yeri probably stood by him, with her dimpled smile and her warm eyes. If it had been Jongin up that roof, maybe he and Jongin would be here right now. Or maybe they would both be dead. It unsurprisingly doesn't help Jongdae either.

 

 

Jongdae wakes up with a start, the skin around his eyes feeling stiff and swollen. Still half asleep, he sits up, the quick gesture making him dizzy, and touches his face, confused. He follows the sticky trails down his eyes to his jawline, and realises with fragmented thoughts that he probably fell asleep crying. His reflexes coming back to life, he quickly grabs the blanket he's still wrapped up in and wipes his face while his eyes scan the room, seeking whatever woke him. Sunlight is slipping through the cracks around the shutters, showering in a shy light Taehyung and Suhyun fast asleep on the other side of the room. Suhyun is clinging to Taehyung who has an arm protectively wrapped around her. Jongdae narrows his eyes at them, his mind still heavy with sleepiness, and finally concludes that they're really sleeping after checking the slow rise of their chests. Yeri, though, is nowhere in sight.

Jongdae untangles himself, groaning when his ankle remains stuck in the blanket. He folds back his leg and quickly unties the sheet. He'd feel better with his machete against his hipbone, especially now that the sun is out, but he tries to reassure himself with the absence of Yeri, and Taehyung and Suhyun still sleeping. He's pretty sure that she wouldn't have let them behind if a threat had shown up. 

Jongdae's right, as he quickly concludes, when he catches sight of Yeri and Soojung on the other room, talking with another girl, slightly taller. Now he also knows what woke him up. There's some ruffling on the other side of the wall, noises of plastic wrappings mostly. _Food_. 

Jongdae glances at Taehyung and Suhyun as he gets back on his feet before walking across the room, straight to the hallway. Soojung is the first one seeing him coming, and she pats the other girl on the arm, answering to her questioning look with a head motion towards Jongdae. The latter freezes on the room's threshold when the girl turns towards him. 

Her attire is quite impressive. Her body is slender, built for speed and agility with her long legs despite her small height, and the taut muscles rolling under the naked skin of her upper arms. The most impressive though are the medieval two-sided axe and the as ancient spear crossing on her back, popping out behind her head. As if it wasn't enough, she's also wearing two small katanas – _chisa katanas_ Jongdae's inner geek corrects-- on her waist, one on each side. Soojung, with her witch look and fierce eyes looks like a kitten next to that girl. 

Jongdae recoils, panic rising in his chest. He remembers Jongin saying that his people were different, but that girl doesn't look very different. It's probably Seulgi, _the one in charge of the maps_ , but she's miles away from the girl Jongdae was picturing. Immune girls are rare, very rare, for pretty obvious reasons—they do bleed once in a month, turning into the perfect bait for Infected. Jongdae clearly remembers that Chinese lady, Liyin, gathering birth control pills in every pharmacies. She had explained him that taking it nonstop stopped periods. He also remembers her beheading the lone Infected that ran into them and disappearing before Jongdae even registered the puddle of blood at his feet. Just like Liyin, Seulgi doesn't look like she would let her periods kill her. He wonders if she managed to keep all the girls in her group alive with the same technique, but honestly, he wouldn't be surprised to learn that she did it with her weapons only. 

Her face changes completely when she notices Jongdae's frightened retreat, and right where her eyes were mostly piercing, warmth appears, flooding. She wears her long hair in a high ponytail with not a strand of hair sticking out, and it surprisingly emphasizes the kindness now taking over her face just like it did with her dangerous vibe. Jongdae almost forgets the sharp weapons. _Almost_. 

“Hi,” she says, shifting on her feet so she's facing him. Jongdae spots Yeri's huge grin over her shoulder, but he refuses to let go of Seulgi's eyes, just in case. “My name's Seulgi” she then says, confirming Jongdae's thoughts. 

She turns around and bends down to grab a very familiar backpack that she then shows to Jongdae. 

“We found this in the warehouse,” she tells him. She points at the handle with a dirty finger, drawing Jongdae's attention on a handwriting just as familiar as the bag. “Kim Jongdeok,” she reads. “Is that you?”

Jongdae remains quiet, even when Seulgi raises an eyebrow at him. 

“You told me he spoke Korean, right?” she asks at Yeri and Soojung, confused. 

“Of course,” Yeri says, raising a confused eyebrow at Jongdae. “His name is Jongdae.” She looks over at Jongdae. “Don't be so shy, oppa. Seulgi unnie is the one in charge, she's been leading us since the very beginning, and she's really nice.”

“Uh,” Jongdae lets out, glaring at the three girls watching him like he's some fledgling that has fallen from the nest. “Well I'm sorry if I'm not really comfortable around you,” he sasses them, pointing at Seulgi's weapons. “You look like you could turn me into a human kebab. Also--” he steps up and snatches his backpack from Seulgi's hands. The look of pure shock on Yeri's face is quite pleasing. “It's my bag, thank you.”

Yeri looks so outraged at the lack of honorifics and Jongdae's rudeness, it would be hilarious if Jongdae wasn't so annoyed, actually teetering on anger. Every smile Seulgi throws at him makes the edges of his vision go red. He doesn't want to know their names, who they are and how nice they can be, he should have been gone the minute after he woke up, wounded arm or not. At least now he's got his bag back, which means he just has to refill it before leaving. The pang of guilt taking him by surprise when he thinks about stealing Yeri and her friends angers him even more. 

Seulgi's amused smile, perched on her natural pink lips, doesn't help, nor the fact that she barely seems troubled by Jongdae's glares. 

“Guys,” she says, gesturing towards the side of the room Jongdae can't see. 

He frowns and peeks further inside the room, only now noticing two other persons, men this time, putting some food out of a few backpacks. They both glance over their shoulders, straightening when they see Jongdae. The latter's eyes slide down their bodies, down to their waists, and he internally grumbles. _Great, more weapons._

“Guys, meet Jongdae,” Seulgi introduces him, her voice still as amused and playfuf. She glances at Jongdae and points towards the smaller guy of the two, with big eyes and thick eyebrows. “Jongdae, this is Kyungsoo, and Junmyeon,” she concludes, showing the last man. 

Jongdae immediately decides he doesn't like this Junmyeon guy, because of the warm smile the latter just sent him, as if they were friends. At least, the other one has the common sense to look at him with suspicion, and Jongdae does not miss his fingers getting nearer the long knife hanging on his hipbone. 

“I think Jongdae--” Seulgi pauses, glancing at Jongdae's makeshift arm sling, “--is going to stay with us for a while.” 

Junmyeon waves at Jongdae with a big smile. 

“Welcome,” he greets him. 

Jondgae stays there for a few seconds, dumbfounded. He witnesses Junmyeon's face going from warmth to confusion, and rolls his eyes. He snorts, turns on his heels and leaves the room, gripping tight his backpack. Instead of going back in the room he slept in, he turns left towards the stairs that he takes two by two. He's not really in the mood for smiling and warm people, so he finds himself a nice little room and sits in a corner, closing the door behind him. He doesn't think people like Jongin's friends would get the hint and understand what a closed door means, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. Jongdae even considers pushing the single bed in front of the door, but the sting of pain it wakes in his arm when he tries immediately stops him. 

He could open the shutters and leave, he thinks as he takes in his surroundings. How long does it take for a dislocated shoulder to heal? He probably could find himself a safe place to stay until his arm is good, but it'd be dangerous. Not only because of the Infected, but also because of Luhan. He can't be sure the latter is after him, but might as well take all the possible precautions. Not to mention that he's still weaponless, and that is a risk Jongdae refuses to take. 

He slightly deflates, his break-out daydreams going up in smoke. With a deep sigh, he lets himself slide against the wall as he brings his bag closer to his chest, his thumb mindlessly stroking the writing on the handle. He'll have to wait for Seulgi to give him back his machete before trying something. Jongdae also saw what they brought from the warehouse, and there's plenty of food. He could steal a little everyday, so it goes unnoticed, in preparation for the moment he'll leave. 

Mind a little more at ease now that he has settled on a plan, Jongdae opens his bag to draw up the inventory of what he already has. He frowns when he looks down at the bag's contents though, something feeling very off even though he's not entirely sure what. He moves the small packs of dried meat aside, and finally understands when he spots the bag of fortune cookies in the bottom. It's the last thing he put inside his bag, so it should have been at the top, and not under everything else. Someone has obviously rummaged through his bag. 

Jongdae glances at the still closed door with knitted eyebrows. Seulgi? He immediately crosses out Junmyeon's name of his list, but something tells him Seulgi and Kyungsoo are as innocent. Why would they have brought the bag back? Jongdae turns it upside down, forcing its contents out, and puts the bag aside as he eyes the food and the few useful tools on the floor between his legs. He spreads it all on the carpeting, mindlessly chewing on his under lip as he thinks hard. Nothing seems to be missing, from his lighter to the ammos. He also spots the pain killers and the disinfectant, and even sees the Chinese prediction he found in the fortune cookie. Jongdae seizes it, thumb sliding over the tiny piece of paper to roll it out. He's pretty sure the Chinese character he recognized earlier indeed means love, but no matter how hard he tries, he can't decipher the other ones. 

He's about to put the paper away when he freezes. He remembers the boy behind the shelf, the freckles spreading on his nose and cheekbones, and his smirk, the amusement in his eyes. From how well equipped he was, with the rope, bow and quiver, Jongdae doesn't think he would have stolen him the lighter or anything like that. He probably had everything already. As for the food, they were in a warehouse full of goods, and after going on the roof, the boy was safe and free to slide down the rope again to grab what he needed later. Jongdae's eyes zoom on the contents spilled on the floor, and that's when he realises. 

His sockets are missing. And with them, the tubes of blood. 

 

 

The door opens a few hours later, much later than what Jongdae had thought. The reason is pretty simple: Seulgi is the one entering his newly found corner of paradise, and not Yeri like what he was expecting. He immediately notices that Seulgi isn't carrying her axe and spear on her back anymore, although the two katanas are still hanging on her waist. She wordlessly takes in the room as she walks towards Jongdae, still sitting in the corner, and joins him, just as silently. She hands him a plastic cup filled with water and a large cup of curry ramen with chopsticks already planted in the noodles. Jongdae eyes her before gulping down the water, and grabbing the more than welcomed food. 

“Yeri didn't want me to bring you food. She said you've been really mean, and she's waiting for your apologies,” Seulgi tells him with a smile.

Jongdae snorts, but the sound comes out weird and gross, since he's also slurping a mouthful of noodles. Seulgi's smile grows wider and more amused. 

“That's ridiculous,” Jongdae retorts, licking the flavoured water off his lips. “What does she want? An apology letter?”

“I'm pretty sure she would like that, a lot,” Seulgi chuckles. 

Jondgae rolls his eyes, stirring his ramen with his chopsticks. 

“There's no mailmen anymore, they're all dead,” he grumbles before bringing up the cup of ramen to stuff another huge mouthful of noodles in his mouth. 

Seulgi watches him eat in silence, perfectly motionless, so much that Jongdae almost forgets her presence, too busy savoring the explosion of stinging curry in his mouth. Almost only, because the two long blades she's wearing still make him wary. 

“Thanks for telling Soojung about the attack in the warehouse,” Seulgi finally says, breaking the silence. 

Jongdae raises an eyebrow at her, his chopsticks stopping midair. 

“Did you get attacked?” 

She shakes her head. 

“But we could have been. That's why I'm thanking you. With Soojung by our side, we were almost sure to come back safe and sound if those eight Infected had found us.” 

Jongdae nods, and when he looks down at the noodles swimming in the yellowish water, his stomach gives a jump of protest. He puts the cup away, wishing he hadn't eaten so much. 

“What happened to you?” Seulgi finally asks, curious. Jongdae undertands that the question is partly why Seulgi came upstairs. “I mean, we found you in the bush, and it was like you had fallen from the roof but--”

“That's exactly what happened,” Jongdae nods. “I was trying to escape from the Infected, and I fell. It was stupid.”

Seulgi gives him a little smile. 

“Luckily for you, we were there.”

Jondgae nods perfunctory. Yeah, _luckily._

“Yeri probably told you about Jongin, right?” Seulgi's serious face cracks, letting amusement take over her soft features for a short second. “Of course she did. Jongin is her favorite topic.”

Jongdae slightly nods. The food feels dangerously heavy in his stomach, so he grabs one of the water bottles he got out of his bag, and gulps down two long mouthfuls of water. He winces as the lukewarm liquid fills his mouth, not as pleasant as the fresh water Seulgi brought him, but at least he doesn't feel like throwing up anymore. 

“We're going to stay here for a while,” Seulgi explains. “Around a week, I guess. You're more than welcomed to stay with us.”

She's looking at him like she knows what he was plotting earlier, and her eyes, smart and penetrating, only leave his face to point at his arm. 

“It'd be the best thing for you to do, or at least as long as your arm hurts,” she tells him, and this time, Jongdae is actually convinced she _knows_ what he had in mind. 

He crosses the stealing off his list, understanding that Seulgi will never let him wander through the house without supervision. He'll have to stick to the food they'll give him in the meanwhile and keep the little he has in his bag. He won't refill in the warehouse though, it's too dangerous alone and without both his arms at full capacity. There are plenty of houses in this side of the city, and it should do it. 

Seulgi watches him for the longest moment, before sighing and shrugging. 

“Okay,” she finally says. “I get it. You can't trust us.”

“Just like you don't really trust me,” Jongdae retorts, bitting, and it has Seulgi chuckling. 

“I'm just being cautious,” she smiles. “We did save you though. And now we're giving you food and protection.”

Jongdae's blood turns into ice. He's been there countless of times before, and he knows what's about to come. He's navigated through enough groups to know how it works. The world has crumbled down, and mundane things like mutual aid have been so conveniently forgotten. Everything has a price, but people like Seulgi, people that are more powerful, usually take more than what they receive. It's exactly what has saved Jongdae all those months. He kowtows, lets them take everything they want until they think he's weak, and then takes delight in screwing them over. He hadn't expected Seulgi to be like that, but it's not that surprising, in the end. 

“What do you want?” he asks through gritted teeth. 

Seulgi's smile grows wider.

“I'll gladly keep doing that,” she says. “But in exchange, you'll have to apology to Yeri.”

It catches Jongdae off guard, and he stares at Seulgi, taken aback. Mirth is taking over her face as she struggles to refrain an amused chuckle, one that tells Jongdae she was aware of what he actually thought. He stutters, confused, and Seulgi chuckles, obviously delighted by her little joke. 

“Okay,” she finally says with a long sigh, still grinning when she catches Jongdae's glare. She gives him a slight tap on the thigh and gets back on her feet. She looks down with another smile, one softer and sincere. “When you're done sulking, remember you're more than welcomed downstairs.”

“I'm not sulking,” Jongdae snaps back. 

Seulgi raises an amused eyebrow at him, but she doesn't say anything. With a last smile, she turns on her heels, heading towards the door. Jongdae watches her, her long hair grazing her shoulder blades and the two katanas following the sway of her lips, and before he can't stop himself, he straightens, detaching his back from the wall. 

“Thanks for the bag,” he calls her out. 

Seulgi stops and looks over her shoulder. 

“You're welcome,” she singsongs. 

“Have you looked inside?” Jongdae asks, trying not to sound too accusing. 

Seulgi doesn't seem to take offence, though. She looks midly confused as she frowns and shakes her head. 

“Why?” she questions when Jongdae sighs, bitting down on his lips. 

“There was someone else in the warehouse when I got attacked. A man with a bow. Something's missing from my bag, and I'm pretty sure he stole it.”

Seulgi completely turns over, her eyebrows deeply furrowed. 

“Do you think he's still in town?”

Jongdae wordlessly nods. He likes the conclusions he reads in Seulgi's eyes. If he has to stay under her protection until they give him back his machete, at least he knows she won't lead him to his death. She's different from Jongin, she's actually aware of how dangerous it is out there.

“Okay,” Seulgi finally says. “We'll be extra careful.” 

Jongdae nods. Seulgi turns over again, and crosses the remaining distance to the door without looking over her shoulder. It's only when she steps through the door that she raises a playful finger above her head, and joins with a chirping _Apology!_. Jongdae doesn't answer, but he does follow the sound of her footsteps downstairs. He's suddenly reminded of Jongin telling him with a proud voice how different his friends are, and unsurprisingly, Jongdae has no trouble picturing the look Jongin would throw at him right now, his eyebrows taking a playful curve, and the corner of his lips twitching with the need to smile. 

“Yeah,” Jongdae grumbles. “Okay, you were right. They do sound pretty different.”

He grabs his bag and hugs it to his chest as he lies down. He doesn't feel like going downstairs right now, not with the sun falling lower and lower behind the horizon line, and the other residents of the house waking up one after the other. Instead, Jongdae stays there, with his legs spread on the carpeting, as motionless as he can, hoping that it will make sleep fetch him faster. He feels the tears prickling behind his eyelids, but he swallows them. It was the only thing to do if he wanted to survive, plus Jongin was hurt, he was bleeding. They would have never escaped from the Infected. 

_Does that help?_ asks the Jongin in his mind, with his long legs crossed before him, and his nasal voice letting out warm and soft intonations. 

“Shut up,” Jongdae grumbles, and instead of thinking about Jongin's terrified sobs, he thinks about bow guy and wonders what the latter is doing with his blood. 

 

 

Jongdae takes a first tentative step down the stairs. He stops and listens, on the lookout for the slighest noise. When nothing comes, he crouches down with his hand still on the banister rail, and glances through the bars. The sunlight coming through the cracks doesn't pierce the darkness ruling over the house, but it's just enough for Jongdae to see the steps, which he is grateful for. 

After a few seconds, he comes to the conclusion that nothing is moving downstairs, so he tiptoes his way down the stairs. He winces when his stomach grumbles, and rubs his belly to try and ease the heavy feeling of hunger. He slept throughout the night, and was expecting a new portion of food when he woke up, but no one came. Obviously, his decision to stay upstairs crumbled down with the hours passing by and the hunger chewing on his insides. With the food inside his bag strictly prohibited, Jongdae had no other choice than to come out of his lair. It doesn't mean he has to obey Seulgi and apology though, and he's stubborn enough to actually try to avoid her—and Yeri. At least, he's slept more than he never has in a year, and he feels fully rested, ready to jump in the darkness at the slightest sound. Jongdae is really confident in his chances, grabbing something from Seulgi's stack of food can't be that hard, especially with the household fast asleep.

The carpet at the foot of the stairs muffles his last step, and still holding the banister rail, Jongdae bends down, sticking just the top of his head out of the corner of the wall to check the living room. He catches a few bodies lying here and there, all wrapped in their blankets, and the slow breathings he can hear assure him that they're all asleep. His stomach grumbles in joy, and Jongdae straightens up, already salivating. Jongdae: 1. Seulgi: 0. 

He tiptoes across the hallway, and just when he's about to enter the room where he knows they've piled up their loot, Jongdae hears a muffled noise coming from the kitchen. He freezes, but the sound, wet, shaky and sniffling, quickly proves to be harmless. Jongdae hesitates for a short second, but curiosity takes the best of him, and he turns around, straight to the kitchen. 

He finds Yeri sitting cross-legged on the floor, the table and chairs having been pushed back against the back door. She raises red and swollen eyes at him, her fists clenched and pressed against her chest. The strong smell of lavender hits Jongdae's nose, and he winces, noticing the bottle of lavender oil opened next to the younger girl. She sniffs while looking at him, her face a mix of distress and pride. 

“I'm okay,” she says with defiance, but her voice breaks around her last intonations. 

Jongdae's heart swells at how small and fragile she looks with her red nose and her shivering body. She glares at him, preventing any mockings Jongdae could throw her way, as if he would. The aggressiveness she's trying to showcase is weak, crumbling down with every little jerk of her shaking lips, but Yeri holds on, her dark eyes boring into Jongdae's. The latter feels his own resolve break, and he mentally sweeps it away, as well as his hunger.

“Hey,” Jongdae says soflty. “What's wrong?”

He slowly crouches down, and Yeri's face falls as she whimpers, slightly curling on herself. 

“It's just—it burns so much.” 

She starts sobbing, her whole body snapping with her, and it's a terrible thing to witness. She brings her knees up against her chest and buries her head between her arms. Her back is shaking and she presses her palms against the top of her head so hard that the veins start popping up, breaking the delicate monotony of her milky skin with harsh blue. Jongdae's eyes follow her long fingers as they spread into thin air like claws seeking for a hold, and he's hit by another wave of lavender. He frowns, shifting closer to examine Yeri's fingertips, only noticing then that she's bitten all her nails down to the quick. Jongdae's heart jolts when he catches sight of the raw skin, and he throws a nervous glance at the back door. Yeri's fingers are shining with all the lavender oil she splattered on them, but Jongdae still has trouble believing that the bucolic smell can really keep the Infected at bay. They would already be there though, so he tries not to panic. His eyes navigate down to Yeri's waist, where her knife is resting, just in case. 

“Jongin stops me when he sees me bitting my nails,” Yeri sobs. “But Jongin isn't there.” She clenches her fists and grits her teeth. “It fucking burns!”

Jongdae grabs her wrists, and starts blowing on her fingers. She looks up, surprised. Jongdae pushes her right hand towards her face, fingers still tightly secured around the other.

“Take that one,” he tells her. “I'll take care of the other.”

Knowing perfectly well that Yeri's eyes are still on him, Jongdae takes a long inhalation, until he feels like his lungs are about to explode, and finally breathes out on her fingers, blowing up his cheeks as much as he can. It seems to do the trick, because he hears Yeri chuckling not a second after. She wiggles her fingers and shows him her right hand. Jongdae raises an eyebrow at her, and shakes his head. 

“Your turn to be ridiculous,” he says. 

Yeri gives him a faint smile, and brings her fingers up to her lips. She breathes in, then out on the wounded skin, her eyes closing with her exhalation. The few droplets of water that were caught by her naturally curled lashes land on her cheekbones and slide down to her jawline, and Jongdae's fingers itch with the need to wipe them away. 

“Does it help?” he finally asks.

Yeri gives him a slight shrug for an answer, but she keeps blowing on her hands. Jondgae grabs the bottle of lavender oil, and puts the cap back on it under her piercing eyes. He hesitates for a short moment, and finally sits down next to her. She's lost her defensive behaviour, and Jongdae takes it as a small victory.

After a while, Yeri finally stops blowing on her fingers. Jongdae catches her glancing down with envy at her shirt, probably wanting to wipe her fingers on the dirty fabric, but she never does. Instead, she puts her hands flat on her thighs, her legs streched out before her, and she eyes her nails warily. She's so young, he realises now that he's finally looking at her without trying to run away. Jongin already looked so young, so out of place, but he had his height and the muscles rolling under his shirt to shield him from the world. Yeri has nothing, aside from the few people travelling with her. She's skinny -they all are-, pale and covered with dust, she hasn't losen all of her baby fat yet, and the nail-bitting induced pain makes her bite her lips. Jongdae is hit by another wave of guilt. He has no trouble picturing Jongin's long arms wrapped around Yeri's small figure, his slender fingers keeping Yeri's away from her teeth, and his sweet warm voice even keeping _her_ away from the anxiety behind the need to bite her nails. 

“My mom used to say it was a very bad habit, and that I would regret it eventually, but I think she was mostly talking about my feminity,” Yeri says after a few moments of silence. She snorts to herself, looking up to meet Jongdae's eyes. “She'd be so pleased to know she was right, even though the problem isn't finding myself a nice husband, but actually surviving. She was kind of a bitch.”

“My mom was nice,” Jongdae confesses. “She made the most delicious soup ever.”

Yeri chuckles, and lightly shakes her head. Jongdae's mom _was_ nice, with him, his dad, his brother, his friends that she loved sometimes more than him. She was a lot of things, but she wasn't immune, and twenty four hours after the winds that had blown on the Mist still covering hundreds of miles hit Daejeon, she stopped being nice. There's something surreal in the panic of those days, because it all seems so distant when it was only a year ago. The world has changed so fast. 

Jongdae blinks, breaking out of his reverie, and his eyes settle on Yeri's face again. She looks as lost in her thoughts as he was. He wonders what she's thinking about. (He shouldn't.) 

“Look, I'm... I'm sorry for earlier,” he grumbles clumsily. 

Yeri blinks at him, and it takes her a long second to remember what he's talking about. Her eyes widen, and her eyebrows go up, but the expected smile is quick to follow, and the dimple finally pops up on her face. Jongdae still thinks the apologies were useless, and probably uncalled for, but seeing how satisfied Yeri is looking right now is almost worthy. 

“I know you think it's ridiculous,” Yeri says. “But my mom, although bitchy, was a good mom. And then one day she comes in my bedroom and tries to eat me. There are so many of us gone with so much of what we were. I think we should keep what's left, before it gets ripped away from us too.” 

Jongdae watches her. He's heard that story a billion of times already. Immunity against the Misty Virus isn't genetic, obviously, and they all lost their families. Jongdae's parents were using their heads to try and break the door that kept him and Jongdeok, his older brother, safe. He remembers that guy, from one of the groups he stole, telling how his six year old sister broke her teeth biting on the car's door while he was trying to start the engine. Yeri's story is saddly unoriginal, but it still hits Jongdae with images of a terrified Yeri being dragged out of her bed in the middle of the night, her mother's perfectly painted nails digging in her ankle. It's one of the things Jongin did, and that Jongdae shouldn't have let him do. Make him care like that. The issue would have been the same, but at least Jongdae wouldn't have been left chasing pieces of Jongin in the eyes of a girl, with the same tendency to care about the past when it's been buried under layers of dust. 

"I can help you with the nail biting if you want," he says, gesturing to her hands. 

She snorts, as if the mere idea of Jongdae actually helping her is hilarious, and Jongdae frowns. 

"What?"

"I'm sorry oppa, but you don't really hit me as the caring type. I can picture you punching me in the face everytime I'd try to bite my nails so well." 

"Nonsense," Jongdae retorts. "How did Jongin do?" 

Yeri's features soften, and her eyes glitter with glee. She and Jongin are so look alike, Jongdae would easily call them soulmates if it wasn't so cruel for Yeri, but he can't refute the heavy sense of deja vu flooding him. 

"Well," she finally says. "Jongin used to hold my hands, and talk me through the need." 

"Okay," Jongdae eagerly nods before he can even register what he's agreeing to, and when Yeri's word finally catch up with him, he freezes. She chuckles, pressing her palm over her mouth to try and muffle the sound. Jongdae can't help but find it so pretty, how with a single gesture, Yeri manages to remind him of the danger outside. They're hidden in a house, but it's still the middle of the day, and Infected could be strolling on the lawn right now. It doesn't look dangerous though, when it's Yeri's hand curling on her mouth, her fingers still so graceful despite the raw skin framing her short nails, just like it didn't look deadly at all when it was Jongin's dancing gait and stargazing sessions. It wasn't that pretty in the end though. 

"Come on, turn around," she finally asks him, an amused dimpled smile still perched on her lips. "I'll apply some oil on your back, just in case the scabs fall too soon." 

Jongdae obliges, his hunger long forgotten in favor of a just as overwhelming thought. He really can't see how Yeri could end differently than Jongin.

 

 

Jongdae keeps his headquarters upstairs, even though Yeri tells him numerous times that he's welcomed downstairs. He won't give up on his precious solitude that easily this time. Plus he's not sure all of Yeri's friends are actually ready to _welcome_ him in their personal space. Junmyeon is always friendly with him, and Suhyun has finally broken out of her shell. She's now able to stay in the same room than him without Taehyung by her side, which Jongdae should probably feel indifferent about, but indifference is hard to fake when Suhyun smiles. Seulgi still wears that mischievous smile around him, and is quick to react to his biting remarks with even more sass. Soojung opens up as well, in her twisted way, full of dark humour, and Jongdae happily joins. Actually, Kyungsoo is the only one who remains so wary around him, his round eyes following Jongdae's every movements. Jongdae is getting used to his dark stare when they eat dinner altogether, but it doesn't mean he likes it. Kyungsoo looks at him like he knows Jongin will never be back with them, because of Jongdae himself. 

Because Jongin remains the most important topic, no matter if it's lovingly and warmly through Yeri's mouth, or worriedly and whispered between Soojung and Seulgi. It's almost ironic, because Jongdae has seen Jongin's existence come to an end, it was abrupt and mostly final, but now he has to navigate through Jongin barging in his routine as if nothing happened. As if Jongdae hadn't killed him. He dreams about him every night now, and he wakes up crying, begging Jongin to stay dead. Knowing he will die once and for all only when Jongdae will tell his friends doesn't help. They all like their missing member better with a beating heart. 

On the fourth day, Yeri knocks on his door, hesitating, and Jongdae can't find the words to refuse when she puts her blankets on the floor next to him. She doesn't ask about the bed, nor does she comment about the tears on his face when he wakes up. Thankfully, he doesn't speak in his sleep. 

On the sixth day, Soojung raises a judging eyebrow at them from the doormat of the bedroom where she's standing, her stuff carefully folded under her arm. She calls them idiots and asks Jongdae to help her pull the mattress on the floor. Yeri forces Jongdae on it because _even though you don't have an arm sling anymore you need to take care of your arm._ It turned out that his shoulder wasn't really dislocated. It was a huge bruise, whose edges are now darkening on his shoulder blade. It still hurts like a bitch. 

The sixth night is also the first night he spends with Yeri. She climbs on the mattress in the middle of the day, when the world outside has the sharpest teeth, and the few humans left the most terrible dreams, and Jongdae immediately tenses, still half asleep. She whispers something about nails in his ears, and he catches her hands, shoving them under him, his hazy mind easily letting go of precautions to drag him back to sleep. Soojung snorts when they wake up, judging, but she almost purrs later, when Yeri teaches Jongdae how to braid hair before making him practice on Soojung. 

On the seventh day, Jongdae considers the bag of fortune cookies. The fact that he doesn't even try to fight himself tells a lot, and how easy it is to walk downstairs with the bag should scare him, but it doesn't. _Maybe you weren't with the right people_ , Jongin had said back then, and Jongdae is starting to believe he was right. He knows how quickly things change, and he let it catch him, probably too willingly. His guilt has a lot to do with it of course, but Jongdae can't actually think of a better reason to stay. He killed Jongin, but maybe he can save his friends, maybe he can help them. He hasn't forgotten about Lyushunkou and Seulgi wanting to go there, but he can't really bring up the topic himself. He won't let them go to the port city though, and the only way to stop them would be to stay with them. 

So Jongdae takes the cookies downstairs.

Seulgi and Kyungsoo are both outside, hunting for more food, but he finds the rest of the team in the kitchen, happily gathered around the gas cooker. Soojung found a bottle full of gas a couple of days before, to Yeri's happiness. She now spends all of her time rummaging through the stash of food, mumbling about recipes and ingredients, and somehow, it turns into delicious food at every meal. Jongdae tilts his head when he comes into the kitchen, catching sight of the wok in front of Suhyun and Yeri, and salivates at the mere idea of Yeri's fried noodles. 

Taehyung notices him, and his eyes naturally fall on the bag of cookies still between Jongdae's fingers. The latter tries to keep a straight face at the look of pure amazement filling Taehyung's now open wide eyes, but the way the younger boy almost hops up and down makes it difficult. Taehyung grabs Soojung's tank top, who pushes him away when the fragile fabric gives a cracking sound in protest. 

“Dessert!” Taehyung exclaims, pointing at Jongdae. “I haven't had a dessert since forever!”

Suhyun turns around, as excited as Taehyung, and Jongdae lets them run towards him and snatch the bag off his hands. Taehyung lets Suhyun plunge her hand deep into the bag first, but he keeps licking his lips, fidgeting with impatience as she rummages through the cookies to find the bigger one. 

“They're all the same, Suhyunie,” Taehyung whines, stomping his feet. “Just take one already!”

Suhyun chuckles, but she pulls out two cookies anyway, and hands Taehyung one. He immediately shoves it in his mouth, and Suhyun's chuckles turn into full peals of laughter. ( _”There's a message inside you idiot!”_ ) Soojung rolls her eyes, in her annoyed but very loving way, and helps Taehyung spitting out the piece of paper. Jongdae doesn't follow the exchange though, because his eyes are glued to Yeri's. They're like crescent moons, all curves and softness, and he finds himself unable to look away. 

“You were keeping those cookies” she says with her signature smile, a hand on the hip. “Why would you give them now?”

“I was saving them for a special occasion,” Jongdae retorts.

Yeri beams at him. Jongdae has caught her glancing at his bag way too many times to think she doesn't understand the true meaning of what he's just done, and from the grin perched on her lips, she obviously does. For the first time since the world went crazy, Jongdae is convinced that he is finally doing something right. Dangerous, yes, but right. 

Next to him, Suhyun complains about the Chinese characters. Jongdae meets Soojung's gaze, as judging as ever, but he has just enough practice to read the amusement in her eyes now. She puts her hand on Jongdae's arm, half-patting, half-squeezing. 

“Now that you're officially with us,” she says with a mischievous smile. She motions with her head towards Taehyung and Suhyun, the both of them rummaging through the bag again. “They're also your kids, so please stop them before they make themselves sick.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes, but doesn't complain as he turns around. 

“Soojung's right, guys,” he says. “You said it yourself, it's supposed to be a dessert, not a starter.”

Taehyung pulls his hand out of the bag, fingers tightly secured around a couple of cookies, and he opens his mouth, ready to argue with Jongdae's last point, very vehemently, when a sharp knock on the roof interupts them. Jongdae freezes, and Soojung's hand flies to her belt. 

“Junmyeon,” she says. She presses her index fingers on her lips to gesture them to keep quiet.

No one in Seulgi's group naively thinks that four walls are enough against the dangers outside, and that's why there's always someone hidden on the roof with their eyes scrutinizing the horizon line. A loud knock on the tiles means that something is coming, something bad. Jongdae has flashes of the Infected alpha taking over his mind, and he slowly crouches down, cold sweat breaking all over his body. He glances over his shoulder to see that Yeri has crouched down as well. Next to him, Taehyung is on his knees, curled around Suhyun that he holds tight against his chest. 

Jongdae closes his eyes, palms flat against the floor for balance, and focuses on the noise outside. He hears a cuckoo singing in a close tree, some nocturnal bugs, and even a snake whistling probably just under one of the windows, but nothing else. They're blind inside the house, because of the closed shutters and the night, thick and starless, outside. Jongdae knows better than to trust nature's peacefulness right now. He cracks an eye open and glances at Soojung who is now holding her beretta with a firm grip, dark eyes travelling from one window to another. The cuckoo keeps hooting, _oooh oooh_ s that Jongdae now hears it like a voice that goes _who who who who_ , and it's driving him crazy. He thinks about Seulgi and Kyungsoo out there, and Junmyeon, who's still on the roof, but quickly sweeps aside his concern. Junmyeon is well-hidden, and probably the safest of them all up there; as for Seulgi and Kyungsoo, they both know how to use the weapons they carry around. Jongdae should focus on his own safety. Their safety. 

Yeri is still franctically checking her nails when the roar breaks the night outside. For a very short second, Jongdae deflates, intense relief washing over him as the image of the alpha's bestial grimace fades away from his mind. The roar of the engine brings back other memories though, that implies just as much danger, and he tenses again upon hearing the car driving closer. It's going fast, the tires squealing against the concrete in every turn, and as it gets closer, he hears people laughing out loud and screaming Chinese words that he can't catch at the top of their lungs. 

Soojung sightly taps him on the shoulder and motions him to follow her towards the closer window. She walks crouched down, so silent that Jongdae doesn't even hear her clotches scratch. He follows her, eyeing with envy the hunting knife at her thigh. She glances at him when the car stops in the street, too close to the house, and the dark look in her eyes echoes what Jongdae is feeling right now. The Immune outside aren't survivors, they're mad men drunk on the feeling of surviving, thinking that if they did, it's because they're too powerful and out of reach. Those are the worst, and if they were to find Jongdae and his friends, they wouldn't only kill them. Taehyung and Jongdae would probably be luckier and die pretty fast, but as for the girls... 

Soojung taps under her right eye with her index finger, and points one of the thin cracks, wordlessly asking Jongdae to take a peek. He nods, and when she's sure he got the message, she grabs the edge of the window with her free hand and glances through one of the cracks herself. Jongdae checks Taehyung, Suhyun and Yeri behind him, the three of them silently turning off the lanterns, before pressing his own face against the closed shutter. 

Luckily for them, the intruders outside didn't judge necessar to turn off the car's front beams, and the light breaks the darkness of the street, informing Jongdae and Soojung of the numbers and the state of the Chinese guys. 

“Are they drunk...?” Soojung whispers, astounded. 

Jongdae's eyes follow one of them who stumbles out of the car, a beer bottle in his hands. He has no doubts over their inebriation, and it's a very good thing for them. If they end up attacking, they'll be so much easier to eliminate. Jongdae can also breath more easily now that he's convinced Luhan isn't involved. He's spent enough time with the Chinese man to know how he handle his pawns. Luhan is cruel, not stupid. Being drunk in the middle of a city is a short way to getting yourself killed, and he would know it. The men out there are still a threat though, but nothing in their behaviors tells they're aware of their existence. 

“There are six of them,” Soojung murmurs. 

Jongdae pulls his face away from the hole and they exchange a look. With Junmyeon, they're also six. Jongdae looks over his shoulder and finds both Yeri and Suhyun in the middle of the room, their knives in their hands. Taehyung has moved to the second window of the room, the safety of his gun off. Outside, the men are heavily armed, the harsh light of the car landing against the numerous guns on their belts with cold glares. Jongdae spotted at least two pump action shotguns, and they probably have more inside the car. 

Soojung is watching him, the wrinkle on her forehead deep. She carefully draws out the knife from her thigh holster, and takes it by the blade before handing it to Jongdae. 

“Just in case,” she breathes out. 

Jongdae nods. If they survive, he'll thank her later. Because even like that, six against six, they can't be sure they'll be able to fight the intruders off. They have a lot of guns, when only Soojung and Taehyung own one inside the house. Their only advantage would be the house and the blocked front door, and Junmyeon, who could be a great defense since the light doesn't reach the roof. But all in all, Jongdae wouldn't bet on their chances, and he would rather like the Chinese men to get on their car again, and leave this town as fast as possible. 

They don't really look like they will leave anytime soon, though. One of them has climbed on the roof of the vehicle, and is now singing a Chinese song at the top of his lungs, waving his half empty bottle in the night. They're so noisy, which makes them even more dangerous. Night or not, if the Infected hear them, they won't hesitate to come out of their nests, and Jongdae knows for sure there is at least one pack in town. Because of the city's size, he's actually convinced there are many more. The back wheels of the car are on the front lawn of the house they're currently hidden in. They're way too close, and if some Infected show up, they'll most probably find them too. 

“We can't kill them,” Soojung mutters next to Jongdae. She probably came to the same conclusions. 

“Because of the blood,” Jongdae approves. 

“But we can't let them stay.” She winces as one of the intruder burst into a litany of Chinese curses. 

Jongdae bites his lower lip, taking another look through the crack. Soojung keeps watching him, as if waiting for an answer Jongdae isn't sure he has. The men outside have put their empty bottles on the car's hood, and one them is currently aiming at them with his gun. The detonation echoes through the night, followed by a cacophony of laughters. 

“Fuck,” Soojung curses, pulling off the safety of her gun. 

Jongdae feels it too, the urgency. There's no cuckoos singing anymore, and he can't hear the bugs. He fidgets, still crouched down, and looks over his shoulder. Yeri looks back, pale and anxious. She lets go of Suhyun's hand to bring her fingers up to her lips, and Jongdae glares at her. 

“Don't,” he hisses.

Yeri whimpers, looking miserable as hell. Suhyun catches her hands, and keeps it secured between her fingers. Jongdae watches them for a short second, and finally turns back to Soojung, determined. 

“I need to get out of the house.”

“What?”

“I'll lure them away.”

Soojung frowns, and Jongdae's respect for her only grows. She's not flately refusing, but actually considering his proposition. The darkness of her hair glistens under the light slipping through the cracks, and the blond finds back its radiance, the sickly yellowish color now looking golden and velvety in the mix of light and darkness around her. For the first time, Jongdae realises how pretty she is, with her thin nose and delicate lips. 

“I can do it,” he assures her, urging, as another detonation echoes outside.

Soojung nods, dismissing his begging tone with a flick of the wrist. 

“I know you can,” she says. “I'm just thinking about the details. You'll have to take your bag with you, so they think you have something they could steal.”

Jongdae nods. 

“How are you going to shake them off though?”

“The roofs,” Jongdae answers without an ounce of hesitation. “I can lure them closer to the city center, and make them think I got deeper into it, when I'll actually be coming back, jumping from one roof to another. It's very dark outside, and the car can't light up the roofs. They won't see me.”

Soojung thinks for another short second and finally nods. She takes back her knife, and puts her gun in his hand in exchange. 

“Just in case,” she says for the second time, and Jongdae snorts. 

“You can't do that, you'll get killed,” Yeri protests, as vehemently as she can, considering that she has to whisper. 

Understanding her worry, Jongdae gives her a small smile. Another detonation makes the windows shake, and Yeri's face falls. He puts the gun in his belt, and slowly cards his fingers through her hair, finally stopping his hand on her neck. 

“Watch her,” he tells Suhyun, whose eyes are filled with fear, and Jongdae can't help but feel touched that she looks so afraid for _him_. “If she starts bitting her nails, please punch her in the face for me.”

Yeri snorts, but doesn't protest. Jongdae gets back up on his feet, exchanging one last look with Soojung, and turns on his heels, heading towards the stairs. 

“Hey, Jongdae,” Taehyung calls him in a hurried whisper. Jongdae stops, raising a questioning eyebrow at the younger man. “Don't be late if you want a few cookies. Can't promise I won't eat them all.”

“I have another bag in my backpack,” Jondgae retorts. 

“That makes one more reason for you to come back,” Taehyung shrugs. “Don't make me come and get you and those cookies.”

Jongdae smiles, and nods, and Taehyung waves at him with intense eyes. He looks over at Yeri, Soojung and Suhyun, and flashes them the same confident smile. The fourth detonation startles him, and he winces, turning on his heels right away. He runs up the stairs, leaving Yeri and the others behind, and runs towards his bedroom. He grabs his bag, opens it and throws the bag of cookies on his bed, before sliding the bag on his shoulders as he walks out of the room with long strides. The bathroom upstairs is the only room whose window hasn't been blocked because it's the only access to the roof, and its smaller size makes it less dangerous than the others. 

Jongdae opens it, and winces. The smaller window indeed, so much that he doubts he'll be able to go through it with his bag. He curses under his breath as the gunfire sounds keep echoing on the front lawn, and takes off his bag. He shoves it through the window, directly on the roof, and grabs the ledge. He hauls himself up, waking up the now distant pain in his arm, and crawls out of the window. A pale hand shoot through the night, and grabs his wrist. Jongdae gasps, taken aback, but a very familiar voice stops him before he struggles. 

“It's me, it's me!” Junmyeon whispers. 

Jongdae grumbles, mentally cursing himself, and he lets Junmyeon help him onto the roof. They immediately crouch down to remain in the darkness. Jongdae takes back his bag, and slides it on his shoulders again under Junmyeon's wide and worried eyes. 

“What are you doing?”

“We can't let them play here,” Jongdae says. 

Junmyeon frowns, and just like Soojung, he doesn't really protest, although the concern for Jongdae's safety is much more obvious on his face. 

“They have a car,” Junmyeon says. “I'm all ready to believe you're fast but... a _car_ , Jongdae.”

Jongdae smiles, and taps on Junmyeon's shoulder, reassuring. 

“Stay well hidden,” he tells him, before walking down the roof with easy, careful steps. 

Junmyeon's eyes follow Jongdae as the latter sinks deeper into the darkness. The car's lights don't reach the back side of the house, so Jongdae quickly slows down, not wanting to fall off the roof and break his neck. It rained the day before, which makes the roof very slippery, so he uses his hands for balance, always making sure to have a strong grip on the tiles in case he'll trip over. He finally reaches the gutter, and he carefully walks along it to reach the small veranda on the back, and most importantly the overwhelming ivy engulfing it. It has grown so much over the past year that the branches are thick enough to support Jongdae's weight. He goes down as fast as he can, jumping when he reaches the last meter. His feet are barely on the ground that he's already darting off the neighboring house. He can't pop out of the darkness behind this house, it would be like screaming at those idiots that people are inside, so he runs as fast as he can towards the next house. 

He peeks around the corner, checking the intruders' positions. They're still aiming at a few bottles on the car's hood, and Jongdae notices that despite the large number of detonations, there must be not more than three broken bottles at their feet. They're just idiots, showoffs who still haven't realised that there's nobody left to impress. Underestimating them though, when Jongdae is alone and only has a gun with him, would be a mistake, most surely deadly. 

Jongdae takes in a lungful of air, and finally grabs his small flashlight from one of the tiny pockets on the side of the bag. Crouched down, he walks in front of the house. When he's in position, right under the roof, he jumps on the spot, and adds a loud _ooomph_ to the thud of his faked fall as he turns on his torch. 

The men's reactions are fast to come, which is quite impressive considering the amount of alcohol in their veins. They all turn around, their eyes narrowing at Jongdae. The cone of light starting from the car and spreading on the concrete stops a few inches before Jongdae who fidgets, stepping back in the darkness in a submissive gesture. Now that they noticed him, they won't let him get away like that, he knows it, but all he needs is them to _believe_ he's hoping they would. 

One of the man steps up, and starts speaking Chinese. Jongdae catches a few words, like _boy_ and _no harm_ , but even without his Chinese notions, he would have understood. He's heard that tone a billions of times, be it in Korean, Chinese or even English. They're trying to be clever, thinking that their little tricks can work on him, and Jongdae mentally snorts. 

He recoils when the man walks towards the house, and stretches out his arm before him. 

“Leave me alone!” he begs him. “Please!”

The man stops, and his expression turns delighted at the Korean words, which is exactly what Jongdae wanted to. He takes another step back, for good measure, as the man turns towards his friends and says something. 

_Come on_ , Jongdae mutters behind gritted teeth. _What are you waiting for..._

He hasn't forgotten about the Infected who might be running towards them right now, and he doesn't really want to deal with them in the darkness. The men are still sizing him up, their hands on their guns, but they're not moving, and Jongdae internally sighs. Badasses, my ass. 

He glances at the width of the street, and tries to measure up the distance between the men and their car. Another glance at the men, still motionless, makes up his mind for him, and adrenaline floods him, setting his muscles alight. 

Jongdae darts off, quickly running through the front lawn to finally reach the street, and the Chinese guys finally react. He hears them cursing, screaming at him, but he doesn't slow down as he cuts diagonally the street, aiming for the houses on the other side. Behind him, the engine starts again, and the car doors shut with sharp sounds. Jongdae mentally counts them, _one two three four_ , as his eyes stays glued to the houses before him. The tires scream against the concrecte at the brutal start of the engine, and Jongdae tries not to panic as the car gets closer. He throws himself forward when he finally reaches the sidewalk, and lands harshly on the grass. His right knee hits the concrete, and Jongdae bites back a moan and a curse. He hurries on his feet again as the car uproots the mailbox just next to him. 

He jumps over the fence on the back of the house, and uses the precious seconds he gains thanks to the driver having to reverse to check on his knee. He directs the light on it, and breathes out in relief when he doesn't see any blood. With the leg of his pants still rolled up, he starts running again, through the garden of the house. 

The car can't reach him there, and his pursuers are forced to stay in the street, in a parallel position to Jongdae's. He keeps his flashlight on, waving it as he runs in purpose, so the Chinese guys won't lose him, and jumps over the fences one by one. 

He finally reaches the end of the street though, and the end of the protection of the houses. He stops abruptly in the last garden as the car pulls over behind the last fence, blocking the exit, and Jongdae immediately crouches down, turning off his light with a quick press of the fingers. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispers. 

He can hear the Chinese men getting out of the car, and his guess is that they're all holding their guns, ready to turn him into a colander. He draws out Soojung's Beretta from his belt, and checks the chamber. There's only a single bullet missing, which means Jongdae has forteen bullets against six men. He's alone though, and even with the chamber full, he wouldn't make it. 

“Fuck,” he says another time for good measure, and that's when his eyes fall on a very interesting object. 

He takes in the green flowers and the pink ribbons attached to the bike's handlebar and smiles to himself. Luckily for him, he's always liked pink. Not that he would have spat on a bicycle just because of its color anyway. 

He puts the gun back in his belt, and quickly makes a run for the bike, hoping that the night will give him the short seconds he needs to get on it and start pedaling. The bike is a little small, but Jongdae is delighted to see that the chain is still in place. He jumps on the seat, and just in time apparently, because one of the Chinese man screams at his friends, and half a second later, bullets are raining on him. Jongdae manages to ride the bike out of the garden though, crouching on the handlebars, and he pedals past the car, and the six Chinese dudes aiming at him. 

“Assholes,” Jongdae screams at them, flashing them his middle finger before crouching down again when a bullet whistles dangerously close to his ear.

He hears the leader yell behind him, something that he easily translates as _move your asses_ , followed by the car doors closing again. He'll have a few precious seconds of lead, but once the car will have started again, they'll catch up with him easily. Jongdae grits his teeth, and pedals as fast as he can, ignoring the bump of his knees against the handlebar every two seconds and the burn in his calves. The car is getting closer, and just when he thought things couldn't get worse, one of the Chinese guys starts shooting at him. Jongdae crouches down again, and starts zigzaging as much as he can without losing too much speed. One glance over his shoulders tells him it's not enough though, because the car is now only a few feet behind him, the collision so close. Focusing back on the road before him, Jondgae abruptly turns left, so abruptly actually, that he has to put a foot on the concrete to avoid the fall. Fear explodes in his chest at the concrete getting closer, but he quickly sets the bike back upright, and launches himself on the sidewalk. Carried away by its speed, the car is forced to stay on the road. 

Thankfully, the sidewalk isn't cluttered, because the Mist engulfed that part of China, turning people way too fast for them to panic. Which means that there's also a line of cars carefully parked between Jongdae and the Chinese men, and for now, they're the only things that protect him from a collision that would most probably kill him on the spot. For now, all he has to worry about are the bullets, and he quickly understands that all the alcohol the men gulped down is playing in his favor right now, because their aim is terrible. 

The end of the street is coming fast though, and Jongdae isn't as confident in his chances. What if he turned around suddenly? But he has to lure them farther away from the house, and turning around, even if he does shake them off eventually, would only bring them back to the street. He really doubts they'd let him go and not search through every house... 

Just as Jongdae reaches the ending of the street and braces himself for a possible collision, he hears the tires behind him squeal. The sound, shrill and piercing, is immediately followed by the crash of metal twisting. Jongdae doesn't dare to slow down, but he glances over his shoulder, and what he sees leaves him bewildered. He puts on the brakes so suddenly that the bike skids, and he has to dig his heels in the ground to stop it. 

The Chinese men's car has left the road, and is now embed into the cars parked on the side. Its hood, half the size it was before, somehow reminds Jongdae of an accordion. Thick and black smoke is whirling around, slipping through the cracks, and one of the wheels, somehow a few inches above the ground, is still turning in the air. The most surprising though, are the two long arrows buried deep into one of the front tires. 

Jongdae looks right and left, eyes narrowing, trying to pierce the darkness around him, but he can't make out a single thing outside of the cone of light still coming from the car's front beams. He doesn't want to linger though, because the crash must have been heard for miles around, not to mention that he's pretty sure one of the Chinese dudes, if not all, is bleeding right now. He turns his bike around, and quickly sits back on it. The sooner he'll be far from that place, the better. 

Jongdae has barely pedaled through a couple of meters that he has to stop to turn on his flashlight. In the middle of the night, it feels too much like a huge add announcing a free meal over his head, but it's way too dark to see, and he can't risk a fall. He keeps the flashlight in his shirt to try and soften the light, and ignores the now protesting pain in his knees to pedal as fast as he can towards the house. 

He has a clear idea whose arrows they were, and somehow, he's also convinced that Bow-Man won't chase _him_. After all, he had a few occasions to kill Jongdae already, and it wasn't a murder attempt earlier, but rather the man saving Jongdae's life, he would bet his bottom dollar on it. He's now pretty sure the man means no harm, but the latter has obviously chosen to stay away from Jongdae for whatever reasons. Not knowing where he is right now, or if he's following Jongdae or not is creepy, and far from being reassuring, life savior or not. 

For that very reason, Jongdae chooses not to head back to the house right away. He drops his bike in a thicket, and conceals it with a few leaves and branches. He can't help the hair on his neck from sticking out, as the unpleasant sensation of being watched takes over him, clashing on his body with cold sweat. Jongdae turns off his light, and darkness closes its claws around him. He sits down on the grass, at the entrance of the residential zone, and waits for what feels like an eternity. 

There's a cuckoo hooting in a tree nearby, and even though Jongdae isn't sure it's the same bird from before, his singing is as hypnotizing. Soon enough, its meaningless syllables turn into the same question, again and again, and Jongdae can only agree. _Who_ , indeed?

In the thick darkness, no one can see him, and Jongdae kind of counted on that to make the man comes nearer, but when it becomes clear that no one will show up, Jongdae silently stands up. He walks to the nearest house, and skirts around it, palming the walls on the back until he finds a few grips. He uses them to climb up the roof, and stays there, lying down the tiles, motionless but on alert. If the man wants to follow him, there's no way Jongdae will makes the job easier for him.

He stays there until the sun rises, eyes wide open and scrutinizing, but he doesn't see anything. He's pretty sure Bow-Man is a very cautious guy, and that wandering through the streets in broad daylight isn't his thing, so Jongdae waits a little more, until the sun is far above his head, overwhelming and so hot on his nape, to finally move. He jumps down the roof, and pressed up against the wall, scans the street before him. Damn, how he hates the sunlight. 

Jongdae closes his eyes, and breathes in and out. 

_Okay,_ he internally tells himself. _Okay. It's just a few meters. The house is so close. You'll get there in no time._

He dashes off before he opens his eyes, fully aware that the sight of the deserted street would make his courage crumble down. He sprints on the sidewalk, his heart thumping loudly in his ears, and with every strides he takes, he's almost sure he hears the Infected alpha's ear-splitting shriek. He reaches the back of the house safely though, and climbs up the ivy so hastily that he almost falls twice. Seulgi is waiting for him on the roof, her eyes wide open, but relief taking over her features, and she doesn't even wait for Jongdae to be completely on the roof to grab him and wrap him in her arms. 

“You crazy asshole,” she mutters, and Jongdae can't help the weak chuckle. 

She helps him through the bathroom window, and takes him downstairs where everyone welcomes him with warm embraces, and even a kiss on his cheek from Soojung. Even Kyungsoo looks relieved to see him, if the slight smile he throws at him is any indication. In all honesty, Jongdae would even hug him, Kyungsoo's dislike for him or not. He's just so happy to be alive. Yeri clings to his arm, her eyes wet but shaped like crescent moons, and Jongdae lets her, even drags her closer to his side. 

Seulgi sits him down, and urges him to tell them everything, which Jongdae does. Or _almost_ does. For whatever reason, he doesn't mention the arrows, and explains the car crash with the alcohol the men had drunk. As for his choice to wait until the sun was out to come back, he calls it safer, smarter. They all nod understandingly, and Jongdae loses track of the conversation, all of his thoughts directed at the man with the bow, and the two arrows, so precise, buried deep in the wheel.

 

 

After what happened, Seulgi decides that it would be safer to watch the street in pair. She also wordlessly promotes Jongdae by giving him back his machete, and even asking him to go on the roof with Soojung, which Jongdae had never been allowed to do before. It suddenly makes the risk of his little expedition less important, because in exchange of the possibility of him dying, Jongdae has gained Seulgi's complete trust, so much that she's now counting on him to protect the people she loves. What he did was stupid and reckless, and Jongdae shouldn't feel proud, but he knows he still does, deep down. He saved Jongin's friends, all of them, and sure, it doesn't make up for what he did to Jongin, but when he falls asleep now, Jongdae feels a little less like he owes him. The uneasiness of being with his friends when Jongin can't be doesn't really go though, nor does the guilt, but Jongdae was kind of expecting that. 

He's losing himself in the palette of yellow and blue in the distance as being perched up on the roof gives him a certain sense of security that allows him to actually learn how to enjoy the daylight and its brightness again. It's a fragile certainty though, a weak feeling that can easily be swept away with the slightest noise, but for now, Jongdae pretends he can simply let his eyes run over the nature slowly entering the city. He wonders what the surface of the Earth will look like in twenty years, and if there'll be someone left to witness it. Jongin would have been a great witness. He would have found beauty in the most terrible sights, even if it has to include the last traces of humanity slowly fading away under knotted roots. 

Soojung sighs next to him, slightly shifting so the sun won't reach her neck. She unties her hair, letting the long strands fall on her back to protect the delicate skin of her nape. She glances at Jongdae with knitted eyebrows. 

“It's dangerous,” she says. 

“What? The sun?”

Soojung shakes her head, and points at the city spreading out at their feet. 

“This. We've been there for too long already. The thing with the Smashers two days ago should have been our cue to get the fuck out of here.” 

Jongdae slightly smiles at the name. _Smashers_ actually summarizes it all pretty well. It was invented by Yeri, as she told him when he came back from the mad dash against the Chinese men. Smasher refers to all those Immune who drive through the country at top speed, and laugh out loud, drunk on the feeling of breaking laws of a world that doesn't even exist anymore. They usually end up embed into walls, trees, the shock so violent that the Infected attracted by the ferrous smell lick more than they bite. Sometimes though, they crash against other Immunes, and the twisted cars turn into a morbid barrier reef in the middle of the road. The Smashers, and the Smashed.

Jongdae glances at the city, squinting his eyes as the sun reflects on the few glasses left on the buildings.

“You're waiting for your friend,” he tells Soojung. 

She doesn't answer, but she throws him a heavy look that Jondgae understands perfectly well. Stomach knotted, he looks away. 

“Jongin is fast,” Soojung says. “Faster than all of us, and we were late when we came here. He should have been there. It's been eighteen days since we lost him. I'm betting he never got out of that forest.”

Jongdae wants to tell her Jongin did. He got out, and he actually reached the city. He was braver than what she seems to think, but he can't really contradict her. Instead, he thinks about Jongin, with his long legs and his ability to be so fast, and how he actually slowed down a few times to make sure Jongdae wouldn't lose him, even if they were being chased. 

“The thing is,” Soojung keeps going. “They've lost so many significant others when the Infected attacked us that day, and I know they were all hoping Jongin would still be alive, and I did too. But now...” she trails off. 

“Significant others?”

Soojung nods. 

“Suhyun lost her big brother. Chanhyuk was a sweetheart, but he didn't make it. Seokjin, the boy whose appendix burst out, was Taehyung's best friend. Junmyeon lost Minho, and Kyungsoo, Ryeowook. We also lost Joohyun. She was Seulgi's girlfriend. It was tough, because she literally threw herself at the Infected so Suhyun could run away.” 

Jongdae freezes as Jongin's words come back to hit him at full power. His friends really are different people, but now that he has the proof, he really can't see how Jongin could have consider him as a good person. They're so much better than him, they would even sacrifice themselves to save their friends. He had always been so clear with Jongin, if it meant him risking his own life, he'd leave Jongin behind. Jongin probably didn't believe him though, he was a dreamer, he walked with his head thrown back at night, and he was expecting from Jongdae the same things he's been used too from his friends.

Yeri's fried noodles start moving in Jongdae's stomach as his thoughts border dangerously on what Jongin must have felt in that very short second before he hit the ground, when he realised that Jongdae was _not_ a good person. 

“I'm sorry,” he whispers softly, not daring to meet Soojung's eyes. 

“It's okay,” she answers with her usual detached tone. She's so realistic that sometimes she appears like she doesn't care. Jongdae wouldn't bet on that though. “I mean, we all loved Joohyun. She was leading us with Seulgi, you know? She had a flail and a sword.” Soojung pauses, then lets out a faint chuckle. “Her and Seulgi were in a museum when things went crazy, so they took what they could to stay alive.” 

“Oh, so they knew each other from before?” Jongdae asks, his curiosity's grip on him way too strong now to keep quiet. 

Soojung nods. 

“They looked like they had spent most of their lives together, to be honest. It's really hard for Seulgi, but she's holding it together for us. The only thing she has left of Joohyun is that ugly key chain attached to her belt, with that tiny pink shoe.”

Soojung sighs, deflating as she does, and she slowly shakes her head. 

“We all needed Jongin to be alive,” she concludes. 

“I'm sorry,” Jongdae repeats. 

Soojung looks at him, and upon seeing his dark face, she playfully shoves him, waiting for him to look up to flash him a tiny smile. 

“Don't be,” she says. “It was on the immunity contract I guess. The world is going down in flames, and we're bound to get burned.”

Jongdae watches her, her soft looking lips and her eyes, so easy to read and complex to understand at the same time, and he can't help but think that they're both alike, somehow. She clashes against the rest of her friends, not as optimistic, but not as afraid. She knows exactly what the world is made of now, and she doesn't hold any vain hopes. She just survives, because it's the only thing left to do. Kyungsoo is like that too, in a more discreet way though. Or maybe it's just because he barely said ten sentences to Jongdae since the latter joined their group. Despite it all, he knows Soojung isn't there just because it's convenient to have people around, but because she genuinely cares about them. She doesn't seem to think they'll survive though, as if she was already preparing herself to the pending deaths of her friends. Jongdae has no idea how she does it. 

“Have you lost someone too that day?” he finally asks her, but Soojung snorts and shakes her head. 

“Nope. No significant others for me, I make sure of that.”

It's Jongdae's turn to smile as she winks at him, full of mischief. He was about to answer with a proud _yeah me too_ , but then Yeri's face flooded his mind, and he found himself tongue-tied. She's so young, so small, and despite her resolve, she's not cut out to live in this world. None of them are, actually, but Yeri... She's like Jongin, she should have lived in a better world, but since she obviously can't, Jongdae will have to protect her. He'll have to do for her what he didn't do for Jongin. He's aware that it's not the exact definition of _significant other_ , not like Soojung is intending it anyway, but it still could lead him to his end. 

Jongdae is trying to come up with a face for that Joohyun girl, lost deep in his thoughts as he thinks about the courage she must have had to gather to do what she did, when a shrill voice breaks the silence. Soojung and Jongdae immediately crouch down, pressing themselves against the tiles as a cloud of birds fly away, chirping with protest at the sudden interruption in their routine. Soojung and Jongdae exchange a look as the scream resounds again. The voice is hoarse, dry, not totally animal, but not human either, and they both know what it means. 

Soojung presses her index finger against her lips, and Jongdae nods. He takes the stick next to him, and quickly knocks on the roof with it. Soojung slightly lifts herself up, shifting her balance on her elbows so she can take another look at the streeet. 

“Maybe we should go back inside the house,” she whispers to Jongdae. 

Just as the latter is about to answer, the creature is shrilling again, only this time much closer. Jongdae grabs Soojung by her hair, it being the first thing his fingers closed around, and forces her down again. She winces in pain, but keeps her mouth shut. Jongdae can see in her eyes that she's coming to the same conclusion than him: the Infected coming closer to them can't be a coincidence. 

Silence draws out. Jongdae catches from the edge of his vision the flock of birds whirling around in the air, turning around and finally plunging back in the trees. He can't hear the Infected anymore, but he doesn't dare to move, and Soojung is just as motionless next to him. Danger is thick around them, and the top of the roof, that has offered them a nice hiding place until then, suddenly becomes a curse as it blocks the view over a large part of the street. Jongdae closes his eyes to focus on his ears, and lets darkness engulf him. Most of the time, he can't count on his eyes anyway, not when he only travels by night, and he's learned to trust his other senses, like his hearing. Luckily for him, the Infected aren't usually discreet, unless they're on a hunt. Jongdae really hopes they're not, because they're too close, way too close to not end up as the Infected's new preys.

It feels like hours before Soojung starts moving again, but from the slow and regular ticking of his watch, Jongdae knows it hasn't been much than a few minutes. He cracks an eye open just in time to see Soojung crawling to the top of the roof to take a quick peek. 

“Soojung,” he hisses in a whisper-like voice. 

She looks over her shoulder, and slowly shrugs. Jongdae's protests quickly die in the back of his throat as Soojung crawls over the last few inches. He watches her, heart thumping in his temples, as she hauls herself up, millimeter after millimeter. The world is back to being silent around them, but Jongdae can't shake the feeling that it's a trick, that even Mother Earth is playing with them, pulling invisible cords, and against Mother Earth, they can't win. 

He leans in, and reaches out. Fingers hovering Soojung's skinny ankle, he tenses his muscles and presses his other hand on the floor for balance, all ready to pull Soojung back at the slightest sound. She looks over her shoulder again, and flashes Jongdae a brief grateful smile when she catches his fingers close to her feet. After a last inhalation, she finally turns around, and peeks above the roof. Jongdae's hand automatically closes around her ankle, his fingers digging into Soojung's delicate skin as he holds his breath. 

“There's nothing,” Soojung says, confused. She straightens up, shifting on her hands and knees and looks down. “Nothing,” she repeats, glancing at Jongdae. 

The pressure weighing down on Jongdae fades away almost immediately as he finally breathes out. Soojung looks at him, smiling, relief flooding her face. She was obviously expecting the worst, just like Jongdae, and the latter decides to take a look as well, the sudden fear he felt earlier now asking hungrily for the same overwhelming relief than Soojung's feeling. 

Just when he shifts his weight on his knees, so he can use his hands on the tiles, he catches a movement from the edge of his vision. Turning around mindlessly, and expecting nothing more than a bird -a big one like a crow- his blood freezes when he sees an Infected climbing on the roof of the neighboring house. Jongdae's eyes fall on suppurating wounds, dirty hair glued to yellowish skin by dried blood, and chapped, gnawed lips. There's a loud scream of horror echoing in Jongdae's head, piercing his eardrums from the inside when he recognizes the kaki pants and the red sneaker on the right foot while the left is naked. 

Frozen in fear, all Jongdae can do is pray that Soojung won't talk, or move, because if the alpha is there, his pack isn't far. He's currently sniffing the air around him, fingers like claws rythmically clenching around thin air. He moves like every Infected does, but to Jongdae, it looks so much scarrier when it's _that_ Infected. There's really nothing much left of his past life as a human, not even the gestures, because they're sharp and sudden, so sudden actually that Jongdae wonders how his neck is still not broken with how quick he is turning his head. He somehow looks like a bird with his fast reflexes, and despite the chiseled line of his emaciated body, he moves silently, gracefully. In all honesty, Jongdae had never seen something that scary before, and even now that he's witnessed plenty of horrors, the alpha firmly planting his feet on the roof and throwing back his head to scream is by far the most frightening sight he's ever came across. 

The scream is inhuman, the voice rasping, and it ends a gurgle that reminds Jongdae of the foaming greenish liquid weeping from the Infected's wounds. He grabs Soojung's ankle just as she startles and lets out a gasp, and pulls her back so violently that she hits her chin against the tiles. He throws himself backwards, head first, and winces when his body crashes through the opened bathroom window, but his pained moan dies in the back of his throat when the air gets knocked out of his lungs as he lands on the bathroom's tiled floor. Soojung's body follows suit, and her jutting hipbones feel like daggers stabbing Jongdae when she falls on top of him. She doesn't move away though, instead grabbing her Beretta and aiming it at the window in front of them. 

Jongdae presses a hand over his mouth to muffle the distressed breathy sounds as he gasps for air. Soojung shifts slightly so her shoulder blades aren't digging in Jongdae's chest anymore, but it still takes him a few terribly long seconds to finally breathe in. With the first lungful of air, Jongdae blinks away the tears gathered in his eyes because of the visceral fear of being asphyxiated, and slides his own hand towards his machete, not daring to pull it away with Soojung lying on top of him. 

Outside, the Infected alpha screams again, this time shorter but more high-pitched, even bordering on ultrasounds. Jongdae can feel the shiver running down Soojung's body as the rest of the pack errupts in groans and moans. Jongdae understands with horror that they're all climbing up the roof of the neighboring house. He's used roofs to run away from packs so often before, and they never followed, as if they were afraid of heights, and it kind of gave him a sense of security. Those Infected don't even sound like they're hunting down a prey, and if they got up on that roof just because they could, with no ulterior motive, it's even scarier. 

Soojung breathes in deeply above him. Jongdae slightly brushes her hip, hoping that she'll get the message and move away to let him grab his blade without hurting her. Luckily for him, she does, and she even makes sure not to move too much, this way remaining completely silent. She curves her body, Jongdae takes his machete, and she takes back her spot, her gun still aimed at the window above them. 

There's a loud bump that has both of them startling, but Jongdae is quicker to react. He reaches out with his free hand and fixes Soojung's aim, making sure her Beretta is still directed at the window. The bump is followed by a few others above their heads. They echo through the now completely silent house, and thunder above their heads. The Infected have jumped on their roof, and from the sound of it, they're now exploring it. The bathroom is under the eaves, which means that its window is hidden from view, unless you walk down this side of the roof, but Jongdae isn't expecting any miracle. He has a bad feeling they're more than eight, as if the alpha had recruited more monsters, and sooner or later, one of them will see the window. 

Being so sure of it brings an odd calm that fills him from head to toes. He can't waste the precious minutes left before they finally attack on hoping, and the fatality has him focusing on any possible solutions. He considers the window, two times wider than high, and realises it might be their best protection for now. Two Infected can't go through it at the same time, which mean Jongdae and Soojung should be able to take them down one after the other. The rest of the house will have to keep quiet though, because if the Infected suspect the presence of other humans inside, they'll suddenly get very interested in the remaining windows, and Jongdae wouldn't bet his life on the shutters. If they manage to kill them all, they'll have to leave the house pretty fast, because the blood will irremediably attract more and more Infected. He's not sure how many bullets Soojung has in her Beretta, but he knows they can't face all the Infected in the city. 

Someone is hobbling right abover their heads now, and Jongdae braces himself for the upcoming attack. He hears a distinct groan above the mass of gurgles and moans, one that gets closer and closer until two feet land on the tiles spreading out just before the window. The muscles in Soojung's arms tense, but Jongdae stop her before she shoots. It doesn't look like the Infected has seen them, otherwise he would already be wriggling through the window with high-pitched and very hungry screams. All they can see now are two dirty legs, covered with scratches and more or less deep wounds. The larger one, a wound so deep Jongdae can see the Achilles tendon and even make out the green foam gnawing the skin covered in pus, carries a putrid smell that has Soojung gaging. Jongdae presses his free hand over her mouth and burries his own nose in her hair, eyes watering at how acrid the air is becoming.

The Infected walks on the roof, but never really leaves the flat overhang in front of the window. He never crouches down once, nor seems to notice the window. Soon, Soojung's arms start shaking with the effort of holding up the gun, and Jongdae wraps his fingers around her elbow to try and help her. His own body is protesting with waves of pain at her body still lying on top of him, but they both know they can't move. Soojung, noticing his discomfort, slightly shifts so her body can follow Jongdae's silhouette a little more, and it has Jongdae almost tearing up with relief when her pointy hipbone stops digging in his lower stomach. 

The pack is still walking on the roof, still screaming and groaning, but minutes pass by, and slowly, hours. The Infected paces up and down before the bathroom window, and soon enough, the air becomes unbreathable, toxic. Soojung starts sweating above him, her body heat rising against Jongdae, and he ends up putting his machete on the tiled floor to reach out and close his hands around Soojung's. She's now shaking so much that her aim regularly misses the window, and Jongdae does his best to help her. Her Beretta is their only chance to survive if the Infected suddenly attacks, and the slightest second of inatention could end them in the blink of an eye. 

Jongdae's watch ticks throughout the day, and the Infected keeps shuffling on the roof. They both spend the longest hour of their lives watching another Infected joining the first on the flat overhang, but the intruder -a female judging by the skinnier ankles- leaves eventually. There are a few more screams, but they're not aimed at them. Jongdae's stomach is knotted by fear; he can't help but feel like the Infected are playing with them, enjoying the heavy dread in the air, just like something is telling him that the alpha being there isn't a coincidence. He knows the Infected are smart, like animals are though, all instincts and reflexes, but there's something very different this time. It's a dangerous intelligence, an almost human one, a very _cruel_ one. Jongdae never saw an Infected climbing on a roof, and now there are at least ten of them up there, and that, also, can't be a coincidence. 

The tiny square of blue they catch through the window finally turns orange, eaten by flames left by the setting sun. Jongdae and Soojung are both shaking now, the long hours of fear and silence behind them leaving their mouths furred. Jongdae's body is sour with the memory of the several cramps he had to go through during the day, and how tense he was while trying to muffle his pained moans didn't really help. At this point, he has stopped analysing and thinking, and all his common sense has finally left him, drop by drop. The voice echoing through his mind is mad, hysterical, but Jongdae lets it ramble and pray, over and over again. The sun is finally going down, but with the night comes a terrifying question he knows Soojung is also asking herself. 

What if _those_ Infected don't go back to their lair at night?

The day is growing dim, growing grey, but the racket on the roof keeps going. The Infected guarding their window goes back on the top of the roof, and Jongdae has heard him groan so much during the day that he recognizes him even in the middle of the pack. Soojung is whimpering now, barely muffled sobs shaking her body, but Jongdae isn't better. He tries to calm her down by pressing his fingers into the soft skin of her wrists and taking the gun to aim it at the window himself, but Soojung finally breaks. She lets out a broken wail, her voice hoarse, and Jongdae's blood freezes in his veins. He presses a hand over her mouth, urging. 

“Soojung, Soojung, please shut up, shut up,” he begs her in a whisper. 

Soojung is aware of the danger, obviously, but she doesn't seem to be able to stop. She raises both her hands and puts them on Jongdae's, pressing it even harder against her mouth. Jongdae closes his eyes as Soojung's more and more desperate sobs fill the bathroom. They're going to die, the Infected will hear them in any second now, and they'll rush through the window. He wonders what being eaten alive is like, if it hurts a lot, or if it's sudden and quick, and he hopes it is. Jongin's face errupts in his mind, the blood, his screams, the gurgle escaping from what was left of his face, and the joke is so bad it makes Jongdae want to cry. He should have died with Jongin, he shouldn't have let go of his hands because it's obviously a dead end. One way or another, Jongdae would have been dead, so he should have held onto Jongin's hands as hard as he could.

Soojung pulls away from his grip, elbowing him in the side as she does, and she immediately shifts on her knees to glare at Jongdae. It's only then that the latter realises she's bitten the inside of his hand, not deep enough to draw blood though, and from the anger flooding her eyes, she must have been trying to free herself from his grip for the past few seconds. 

“They're gone,” she hisses, her hair sticking out on the top of her head. 

Jongdae frowns, but it doesn't take him more than a second to realise that she's right. He straightens up, his body pulsing in agony, not daring to believe in the silence out there. 

“They're gone,” he repeats. 

Soojung nods, her palms on the tiled floor, and her legs stretched out in front of her. Jongdae looks down at the gun he's still holding while he licks his chapped lips. 

“They're gone,” he whispers for himself. When he looks up, Soojung's eyes, puffy and still red, are still on him. 

“We need to get the fuck out of that city,” Jongdae concludes. 

His words are like a starting signal for both of them. Jongdae gets back on his feet, and starts running towards the door as soon as his hands leave the floor, still bent down. Soojung follows suit, first on all fours, and finally with long strides when they both exit the bathroom. They hurtle down the stairs, Jongdae's sweaty hands burning on the banister, and they jump over the last few steps together. In their hurry, they bump into each other, and Soojung's bony shoulder sends him against the wall. Jongdae uses it to regain his balance, pressing a hand on it to direct himself at full speed towards the living room. 

Two arms engulf him almost immediately as he barges into the room, and the body pressing against his, smaller and thinner, is familiar because Jongdae has been holding it against his chest for the past few nights. He bounces against Yeri, but she holds him firmly, her fingers digging into the small of his back. When Jongdae looks up, Yeri's lavender's scent filling his noise, he's met with Seulgi's serious eyes, and the rest of the team looking as grave behind her. Soojung is catching her breath, her head on Junmyeon's shoulder. 

“We need to leave,” Jongdae tells them, his hand curving on Yeri's nape, comforting. “Now.”

 

 

Jongdae takes a nervous look through the arch leading to the dinning room, but Junmyeon and Taehyung's fast movements slightly reassure him. They're packing the few things they have, from the beddings to the food with Suhyun's help, and they're being as efficient as they're fast, which is a good thing. Jongdae can't shake the feeling that something is coming, something bad, and the sooner they'll be out of this house, the better. 

He draws back his attention on Yeri, the latter clinging to his arm. She's watching him with big eyes and wet lashes, her mouth slightly ajar. He and Soojung weren't the only ones with a hord of Infected above their heads after all, and Yeri, just like everyone downstairs had no idea what was really happening upstairs on top of that. But to Jongdae, she mostly looks like she was dead worried about _him_ and not the possibility of her death, which is completely crazy.

“You didn't bite your nails,” he notices. 

Yeri slowly shakes her head, glancing at her hands with a faint smile. 

“I was too scared to move.”

Jongdae hugs her closer, closing his eyes a short second as he presses a light kiss on her forehead. She grips his biceps and closes her fingers around them like claws to keep him from pulling away. The need to move itching under Jongdae's skin quiets down a bit as Yeri hides her face against his collarbone. He winces at the thin fabric sticking to his skin because of the perspiration, but lets Yeri shifts closer until she's seized all the space left between their bodies. 

“Do we really have to go?” she asks in a whisper so low Jongdae is the only one catching it. “This house is safe...”

Jongdae shakes his head. “It's not. There's nowhere safe. We can't stay here, it's too dangerous.”

Yeri clenches her fists on his shirt, but Jongdae didn't need the hint to know what she's thinking about. That city, that house, was supposed to be the place she'd find back Jongin, and despite how mature she acts, she is still hoping like a crazy child. For a very short second, Jongdae is tempted to tell her the truth even if it means losing her, just so she can run away from this place safe and sound before her wishful thinking gets her killed. 

“We could switch houses,” she mumbles. “Choose another neighborhood.”

Jongdae closes his eyes. 

“Jongin's dead, Yeri. He won't come back.”

Yeri pulls away, slightly, so she can flash him an angry look. 

“You don't know,” she snaps back. 

Jongdae opens his mouth, but Seulgi's voice cuts him. 

“Jongdae?”

Yeri pinches her lips together, her teary eyes defying, and Jongdae deflates, giving in too easily to the shame flooding him. He locks away the truth, and links his and Yeri's fingers.

“Come on,” he tells her as he takes her hand and drags her into the living room. Seulgi has spread a map on the floor because of the lack of furniture, and she's now studying it, Soojung and Kyungsoo on their knees around it. As he walks closer, Jongdae quickly notices a dozen of red dots splattered over the map, starting from South Korea to finally go up to their actual position. Jongin had told him back then that Seulgi was the one in charge of the map, but it's the first time he sees her look into one. She's obviously as conscientious with it than with everything else, judging by the tiny red skulls she drew several times, and all the indications she added with a very neat handwriting. Jongdae also notices a different handwriting, here and there, until it stops abruptly around the place where he met Jongin. Seulgi does an amazing job at not flinching.

She looks up at Jongdae when the latter stops next to her. Her eyes are elusive, fleeting from Yeri's, but they settle on Jongdae's firmly. 

“Are you coming with us?”

Jongdae frowns. “Of course,” he nods. 

There's a brief flash of approval in her eyes, but she dismisses it quickly with a twitch of her eyebrows. Jongdae glances at Kyungsoo and Soojung, the latter obviously pleased while the first is more discreet about his thoughts on the question. Jongdae quickly dismisses Kyungsoo's possible dislike for him with a mental gesture of the hand, and looks back at Seulgi. She shows him the map, planting her index finger on the dot indicating the city they're currently staying in. 

“We're here,” she tells him, and with her last syllable, she slides her fingers along the roads, dragging it closer to the shore until it stops with accuracy on a single black dot. _Lyushunkou_. “And we're going there.”

Jongdae stares at the tiny characters indicating the port city, silently thanking whoever hears him that Seulgi has mentionned the city first. He looks up to the rest of the team, the four of them staring back at him, obviously expecting a question or two, but Jongdae shakes his head. 

“We can't go there,” he tells him, faking fear and worry, instead of the relief he actually feels now that he's finally telling them. “It's full of Infected. Is it because of the radio message? I went there, but there was no one, only dead people and Infected. The city is too dangerous.”

Seulgi watches him with intensity, and Jongdae holds her gaze. He catches Soojung looking down at the map from the edge of his vision, her face now a heartbreaking mix of despair and confusion. Kyungsoo doesn't really react, except for the light squeeze of his hand over Yeri's arm. 

“Are you sure?” Seulgi questions him with knitted eyebrows. 

Jongdae furiously nods. “One hundred per cent sure. Going there is suicidal.”

It's Seulgi's turn to look lost now, and Jongdae understands, when she glances down at the map with glistening eyes, that he just took from her her last goal, the only thing that had her standing on her two feet. For the very first time, he notices the key chain dangling from her belt. It's a tiny sneaker, a pink one with a silky ribbon as a shoelace that Seulgi mindlessly follows with her fingers, stoping them on the bow. Jongdae glances back at her face, and finds her frozen, her lower lip between her teeth. He's never seen her lose her composure and, well, he doesn't like the sight at all. 

Kyungsoo is the first one to react, with his usual low voice as he points towards Russia. 

“We could go over there,” he proposes, acting as if Seulgi hadn't blanked out. “It's very cold, and we know it slows down the Infected. Maybe there's something left up there.” 

Seulgi blinks, drawing back her attention on the map. She shrugs, and glances at Soojung, silently asking for her opinion. 

“We'll need to plan it,” Soojung says. “It _is_ cold, but if we're not careful, the Infected won't be the only ones freezing to death.”

Seulgi nods. She looks at Jongdae, purposely avoiding Yeri's eyes. Jongdae doesn't miss the latter's annoyed face. Jongin is like the elephant in the middle of the room, but Seulgi looks very determinate to skirt around it.

“What do you think?” she asks Jongdae.

He's obviously not going to tell her that it was his plan all along. Leaving China and going north, far from Luhan. Kyungsoo just had the same reasoning than him, and it helps Jongdae liking the latter a little more. He nods, showing his approval to Seulgi, but doesn't stop there. 

“Seulgi, the leader of the pack that was on the roof... It's the Infected that tried to kill me just before you found me.”

Seulgi frowns. 

“Do you think he was hunting you down?”

“I don't know. But they weren't behaving like Infected usually do, it was weird,” he pauses. “We really need to get the fuck out of here fast. We'll find a new destination when we'll be out of their reach.”

Seulgi slowly nods. She draws back her attention on the map and folds it. Kyungsoo helps her while Soojung still seems lost deep in her thoughts. She bites her lower lip, and glances at Seulgi. 

“Jongdae's right, they weren't normal and the fact that they left just like that...” she trails off, obviously meaning to ask something but not daring to. Seulgi looks up as she shoves the map back into her backpack, her eyebrows furrowed. 

“What do you mean?”

Soojung hesitates, glancing at Kyungsoo then Jongdae, but she finally deflates. 

“There are plenty of cars in that street. We should get one--”

“You know how I feel about cars,” Seulgi interupts her. “They're noisy and really easy to detect. What if Smashers see us--”

“Those Infected won't let us leave like that,” Soojung firmly says. She glances at Jongdae, obviously seeking for his support. Her gesture doesn't go unnoticed, and soon enough, Seulgi, Kyungsoo and Yeri's eyes are on him. He sighs, licking his lips, and finally nods. 

“She's right. It'd be safer, at least until we're out. We could leave the cars outside.”

Seulgi sighs, slowly shaking her head. Jongdae understands, she doesn't like it. None of them does, but he shares the same bad feeling than Soojung. There are too many things for all of them to be a coincidence, from the fact that it was _that_ alpha on the roof, that he had more creatures with him, and that they stayed on the roof all day long, without attacking. It's unprecedented, and Jongdae is only sure of one thing: he doesn't want to know how different those Infected are. 

Seulgi considers both he and Soojung for a second, but they're short on time, and the ruffling of Junmyeon, Suhyun and Taehyung in the other room seems to remind her of that. She slightly deflates, a worried wrinkle crossing her forehead and finally nods. She glances at Kyungsoo. 

“Can you take care of it?”

Kyungsoo looks at her like she's crazy to doubt it, and his blank indifference somehow lessens the heavy atmosphere. Seulgi chuckles, slightly shaking her head, and Jongdae catches the shadow of a smile on Kyungsoo's chapped lips. It gets to Soojung, who ends up snorting, her control over her own face back, and it's a great thing to see. Jongdae can''t blame her for how she broke down upstairs, because he was himself completely lost, teetering on insanity. The cars are a great idea actually, an amazing one. He can't wait to leave this town, and put as much distance as he can between him and that Infected. 

“What's going on?” Junmyeon asks as he walks into the room, Suhyun and Taehyung by his side. He's wearing an hesitating smile as his eyes go from one face to another. 

“We're going to get away from here by car,” Seulgi explains him, her eye smile still lighting up her face. “We'll need two cars though, so,” she pauses and looks at Taehyung. “You feel like helping Kyungsoo with that?”

Taehyung nods. A hint of surprise must have showed on Jongdae's face, because the younger boy flashes him a confident smile. 

“I was kind of a delinquent before, so stealing cars is a piece of cake for me.”

Junmyeon smiles, still in his very paternal way, and slides an arm over Taehyung's shoulders. Jongdae is more used to Seulgi asking Junmyeon and Kyungsoo or even Soojung to help her, and he's always taken it as a choice to protect the younger ones, but he realises he's been wrong all this time. Seulgi is just playing with her assets, regardless of age and gender, and his respect for her only increases. 

“What about Jongin?”

Yeri's voice is strong, disappointed and angry, and despite her being one of the smaller ones, they all seem to recoil under her tone.

“Look, Yeri—” Seulgi starts, but Yeri furiously shakes her head. 

“We can't leave like that. We don't know what happened. He may be hurt somewhere, waiting for his injury to get better so he can walk. You can't all just assume he's dead.”

“It's been eighteen days, Yeri,” Soojung states, but her sorry look disappears as soon as Yeri shoots daggers at her. 

“I don't care. We promised each other to always be there for the other, and to take care of each other, and Jongin never breaks his promises. He wouldn't leave me alone. He's out there, I'm sure of it. And I don't want to leave without him.”

Jongdae suddenly feels so cold that the air in his lungs turns into ice. He eyes every face in the room, feeling like he's standing on the edge with no other choice than to jump. He's not so scared about the weapons they all have dangling off their hips now (and on their backs as well for Seulgi), but more about their reactions. He's never trusted anyone since the Misty Days because of how risky it was, but he let Jongin get to him, and now he's back at losing people. He doesn't want Yeri to stay though, he doesn't want any of them to risk their lives because of an Infected running after _him_ , and he knows telling the truth is the only solution. 

He looks up, and meets Kyungsoo's eyes. Seulgi's attempts at convincing Yeri fade away in the back of his mind as Kyungsoo's rond pupils harden. He clenches his jaw, his gaze intense and sharp as a blade on Jongdae's face, and with how threatening he looks, Jongdae is suddenly sure that the younger man knows everything. He knows for Jongin, and he knows that Jongdae is about to say it. 

Jongdae blinks away, fear crawling under his skin. Seulgi and Yeri are still fighting, everyone throwing a remark here or there, but Kyungsoo remains quiet, his eyes following Jongdae's every gesture. The pressure is so strong on Jongdae that he feels his resolve break and his bones crack. 

“We could leave him a letter,” he butts in. 

Seulgi freezes, but Yeri's eyes open wide, and she nods furiously. She crosses her fingers in a praying gesture and looks at Seulgi, begging. 

“Seulgi, please, please, please!”

“You're not five Yeri,” Seulgi snaps back. 

Yeri doesn't look offended at all, but rather pleased at the thoughtful look on Seulgi's face. She glances at Jongdae with a smile so wide she can't really hide it, and it clashes with the night outside and the heavy atmosphere. Jongdae choses to focus on her, and how pretty she is with hope splattered on her face, instead of checking Kyungsoo's expression. He really has no doubt about why the latter has been so wary around him anymore, and he doesn't like that Kyungsoo has chosen to stay silent about Jongin at all. After faking submission and inferiority for so long, he's caught in it for real this time, and the lack of control pushes him on dangerous fields. 

“We'd have to leave it in the warehouse though,” he says again. The voice inside his head is calling him stupid and idiot, and Jongdae knows it's right. He's going to risk his life for someone who's dead, someone _he killed_. “I could take Yeri there. We need two cars anyway, so I'll take one, and you'll take the other. You'll have to squeeze to fit at the back, but it's just for an hour or two, and we'll meet you outside of the city.”

Yeri watches Seulgi with big excited eyes, and Seulgi considers Jongdae for a long moment. _Please say no, don't let me take her over there_ , he silently begs her, but just like Yeri, Seulgi falls into the trap of hoping Jongin might be alive somewhere out there, and she finally nods after a couple of minutes. Jongdae tastes bile in the back of his throat. 

 

 

“What do you think of that one? _Nini, we had to go because the Infected were getting audacious. Please, be careful. We met someone who said he got attacked in the warehouse, so don't try to go inside. If you need food, search the houses. We're going north. I drew the plan behind, don't forget it! And Jongin, please, don't be late this time. I made a new friend, and I can't wait for you to meet him. You'll like him. I'm waiting for you. Love, your Yeri._.”

Jongdae's knuckles turn white on the wheel, and he doesn't dare glance at Yeri next to him, instead pretending to be focusing on the road. He should really focus on it actually since he didn't turn on the car's beams, for discretion purposes, and he struggles to make out the car's hood in the thick darkness engulfing them. It's a hard thing to do though, when Yeri has been babbling about what she wants to write to Jongin since they left the house. She's so enthusiastic, so excited about this. The four previous letters all included some inside jokes between her and Jongin, and Jongdae has never heard something sadder. 

“So?” Yeri asks him again. “What do you think?”

“It's just a letter to tell him where you are, do you really have to mention me?”

Yeri flashes him a smirk that Jongdae catches from the edge of his vision. 

“Who says I'm talking about you?”

Jongdae glances at her, and snorts at her pleased face. He slightly shakes his head, drawing back his attention on the road. His stomach is knotted, and he feels so uncomfortable in his own skin. Kyungsoo's last words, when he got into the car, keep replaying in his mind. _You better bring her back to us alive_. Kyungsoo didn't have to say more for Jongdae to catch the underlying threat, but it wasn't even needed. If something was to happen to Yeri because of his lies... 

Jongdae straightens on the seat, back leaving the fabric as he leans towards the wheel. His chin almost touching it, he narrows his eyes at the street. He's driving very slowly, not wanting to smash the car and die in a stupid accident, and the slow speed really doesn't help his bad feeling. His body is still sour from the long hours spent in the bathroom with Soojung lying on top of him, and his insides are just as messy. He's such an idiot, why didn't he just say the truth... Maybe it would have been forgivenable (no it wouldn't have) days ago, when they questioned him about Jongin, but now... He's said his name so many times faking hesitation, as if he didn't know him, and he's even played with their hope, but it's going to lose him, one way or another. 

“I think I'll keep that one. I like it. Do you think he—oh.” 

Yeri stops, putting down her piece of paper to look through the window. Jongdae is already watching though, as they drive in a very familiar street. It looks so much shorter now that he's not pedaling through it. He winces when they drive past the Chinese crashed car, bones looking greyish, almost black in the night, and empty eye sockets following them. 

“That's where the Chinese men crashed?” Yeri asks, and Jongdae hums affirmatively. “Were they dead when the Infected...?” she trails on, but Jongdae can't blame her. Imagining the marks left by human teeth on the bones is already horrifying enough like that. 

“I doubt so,” he says distractedly. They're close enough for him to notice that the two arrows are gone, and it forces a smile out of him. Of course Bow-man wouldn't waste his ammos.

He glances at Yeri, who is watching the car now turned into a tomb sadly, and draws his attention back on the road. He's seen Jongin do that a few times before already, not only with compassion, but with other feelings that aren't made for this world anymore, and back then, he had looked at Jongin like he was crazy, and had kept his words for him, silently knowing that it would get Jongin killed one of those days. Yeri can't play the same game, bring back feelings to life, as if there was enough room for them in the current world, because one day they'll throw her off the edge. 

“It was them or me,” he tells her as she pivots on her seat to follow the slightly darker shadow of the car in the night. 

She looks at him. 

“I know.”

“They could have get all of us killed.”

“I know.”

Her tone hardens, and Jongdae casts her a look. 

“They got eaten alive. I wouldn't wish that to anyone,” she snaps back, defying and determinate to stand her ground. 

Jongdae knows how stubborn she can be, and he really doesn't feel like arguing right now, not when he thinks he sees the alpha running to him with every shadow curling around in thin air. He just throws her a look that has her scrunching up her nose with even more determination, and he draws back his attention on the road. 

“I'm gonna take the longer road to get to the warehouse,” Jongdae explains her. “Because I don't want to go downtown, so I'm just gonna drive along it.”

Yeri shrugs. 

“As long as we get there alive.” 

Jongdae snorts at her tone. She's not even saying it because she's genuinely scared of what might happen, she's just being as cheeky as she can, indifferent to the danger rising with every second passing by, and just _so_ seventeen. Yeri would have made such a difficult teenager for her parents, with her tiny hands curling into fists, and her fierce eyes shooting daggers at everyone. That's probably what saved her actually, the fact that she had enough biting to stop her mom from literally biting her.

She's smiling now, eyes reduced to crescent moons, and the prettiest wrinkles maping her temples, pleased at the amusement spread over Jongdae's face, and the latter sighs, gives in, and reaches out. He takes her hand, and flashes her a soft smile. 

“I'll take you back to your friends alive,” he promises her. 

Yeri's smile grows wider. She slightly shifts her palm against Jongdae's to link their fingers, her other hand clenched on her letter. 

At such a slow speed, and without driving through downtown, it takes them close to an hour to reach the warehouse. By the time the towering building comes into view, Jongdae's heart is beating erratically, and he regularly has to breathe in deeply to take in all the oxygen his lungs are giving to the growing fear in his chest. He stops the car a few meters down the road, all ready to leave the city and go deeper into the bordering forest. 

Yeri looks over her shoulder, eyes narrowing to try and pierce the darkness engulfing the road to the warehouse. She turns over to look at Jongdae, the worry finally taking over her face. The hair on Jongdae's nape is sticking out, and he's under the very unpleasant impression that bloodshot eyes are following him. He gulps, nervously checking the machete on his hip, and the extra gun Seulgi handed him. Yeri is watching him, her own hand on her knife. 

“Do you want to stay into the car?” Jondgae asks her. 

Yeri is probably dying to say yes, but she still attaches importance to dead values like honor and trust, and everything she's been taught stops her from nodding. Jongdae sighs. He grabs her wrist and makes her lower her weapon. 

“Yeri,” he says. “You can stay here. It won't even take me five minutes. Keep the engine running, okay?”

Yeri's eyes are indecisive, but another glance at the thick night separating their car from the warehouse seems to do the trick. She slightly deflates, and puts back her knife in the sheath on her belt. 

“Okay,” she whispers. She turns on her seat and takes the letter. She put a piece of adhesive tape on every corner, and she makes sure not to touch it as she hands Jongdae the sheet. “Jonginnie is tall, you can put it high up. Don't stick it on the doors, if Immunes or Infected open them, it could fall. The outside wall should do.” 

Jongdae nods. He takes the letter, and puts his other hand on the door. 

“Do you know how to drive?” 

Yeri nods. “Junmyeon hyung taught us a few months ago. He said it could come in handy.”

“Junmyeon is my favorite person in the world right now,” Jongdae slightly jokes. 

Yeri smiles. She puts her hand on the steering wheel. 

“Do you want me to...?”

“Yes,” Jongdae nods. “Take my seat, and get ready to step on the gas as soon as I get in. If I tell you to go without me, you go without me, am I being clear?”

Yeri's little smile fades away, replaced by her usual intense eyes. 

“I thought that things like heroism were completely outdated?” 

Jongdae glares at her. “It's not heroism, it's called common sense. If there's nothing you can do for me, then you should go. Doing just that would also be common sense. Trying to save me even though I can't be won't be heroism, Yeri. It would be stupidity and suicidal.”

Yeri rolls her eyes, but Jongdae knows she got the message. He doesn't think she'd be stupid enough to get out of the car for him if he's being attacked by too many Infected than he can handle, anyway. He glances at the rear-view mirror, and only sees darkness. What about him? Is he stupid enough to risk everything for someone who died? 

He bites his lower lip, and looks back at Yeri. 

“Yeri, listen...”

She hums, questioning, her eyes scanning Jongdae's, looking for a hint. Jongdae thinks about her teaching him how to braid Soojung's hair, he thinks about her cooking, singing with Kyungsoo, cradling Suhyun in her arms when the latter had a nightmare, and he decides that yes, it's worth taking the risk. She'll realise sooner or later that Jongin will never come back to her. Jongdae doesn't have to tell her. 

“See you in five,” he tells her with a slight smile. 

Yeri smiles back. Casting another glance through the window, Jongdae grabs his machete and curls his fingers around it, Yeri's letter between his index and middle fingers. He opens the door and slips outside. Fresh air bites his skin covered with sweat, and Jongdae refrains a shiver. He glances around, immediately crouching down to minimize his exposure, and when he's sure no one is about to bite his head off, he peeks through the car's window. Yeri has taken his seat, and when she sees him, she answers with a thumb up, her nose pressed against the window. Jongdae smiles, and finally turns towards the warehouse. 

_Well played, Jongdae, risking your life for a girl, and she's not even legal._

He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and considers the few meters separating him from the warehouse. His mind draws away from Yeri, as the red alarms all turn on one after the other in his head. The night is completely silent, thick around him, like the hundreds of nights Jongdae has walked through since the Misty days, but despite the peacefulness, something feels off. He thinks about the Infected walking on the roof, the two feet pacing up and down before the window and internally recoils. He could just get back in the car, and tell Yeri the truth, but something about it is even scarier than the darkness around him. 

“Okay,” he whispers to himself. He glances right and left, but doesn't really trust his eyes. In such a starless night, there are so many things they can't see. “Let's go.”

He takes a first tentative step forwards, and stops. His leg muscles are itching to throw him towards the warehouse at full speed, but Jongdae doesn't want to run. They know nothing about the Infected and how their twisted senses work. The car purring lowly behind him will surely block the sounds of his hurried foosteps if he starts running, but it could also be attracting the Infecting right now. He doesn't want Yeri to cut the engine though. He's still haunted by the image of three Infected tearing a pickup apart in less than five minutes, back when he was near Seoul. The faster they'll be able to drive away from the warehouse, the better. 

It's for those very same reasons that Jongdae takes small, slow steps instead of running towards the building. He remembers the wildlife documentaries, and how some predators spot their preys because of their movements, and he doesn't want to be the idiot who will test the theory about the Infected. He walks as slowly as he can, sometimes stopping close to two minutes between two steps only to make sure the birds and insects are still by his side, singing, clinking. The warehouse is slowly getting closer, clearer in the night, more grey than black, and the adrenaline pumping through Jongdae's veins is still burning white, urging him to go faster. Jongdae fights off his instincts, machete raised in front of him, and eyes scanning the night spread out at his feet. 

The building is now so close that he could reach it in two long strides. The doors are closed, and even though he noticed it, he's still not sure if it's a good thing or not. He's feeding details as if they could help him, save him if he's attacked, but he actually doesn't know what to do about them. Taking in a huge lungful of air, Jongdae finally looks over his shoulder, barely making out Yeri's pale face pressed against the back window of the car. He waves at her, and finally turns back towards the warehouse. He's been out of the car for what feels like hours, but a quick glance at his watch tells him it's been a little under ten minutes. Jongdae slightly relaxes. He's almost sure they would have attacked him already but better safe than sorry. It's time to speed up and drag his ass out of here. 

Jongdae jumps over the last few meters. He looks around him, checks that the doors are still closed, and finally considers the right wall. Yeri is probably barely able to make him out, but better do exactly like she said, just in case. He moves aside a few branches from the most audacious trees that are already stepping on the warehouse, and sticks the letter on the wall. His eyes go over the words again, and he wonders if someone will read the letter one day, or if it's fated to be forsaken then buried like everything else. He hopes it will catch someone's eyes someday, preferably someone young, someone still smiling. They'd give Yeri and _Nini_ a nice backstory, with a happy ending. Jongdae would like that a lot. 

Something jerks him out of his reverie, and he blinks away from the letter, his instincts on alert. How long has he spent staring at the letter? Jongdae pushes the question in the back of his mind, judging it not important enough right now for it to hog his focus. His breath dies down in the back of his throat, and the hair on his arms stands up. He glances around him, muscles tense, and fingers clenched on his machete. Something is off, so wrong that it's screaming at him to hurry up if he wants to get out of there alive, but Jongdae can't put his finger on it, and it's as irritating as it is scary. He doesn't really feel the need to stick around to know what it is though, so he walks out of the thicket, cutting the thin branches falling before him. 

It's only when he steps out of the shrub that it hits him like a truck thrown at full speed. Jongdae pauses, frozen by the sudden fear raining on him, so strong that he almost drops his machete. 

There are no birds singing anymore, no bugs cricking, not a single sound disrupting the thick, thick silence. 

Jongdae bites back a moan. He looks at the car, now standing greyish against the blackness, at what feels like miles from him. Not daring to look behind him, Jongdae doesn't waste another second, and dashes off towards the vehicle. He hasn't taken his first step yet that he hears something fighting its way through the branches behind him. It's too close for Jongdae to hope to reach the car safely, but he's pretty sure the Infected on his trail is alone, which means that Jongdae has his chances if he actually fights. 

His decision is taken in less than a second. Holding his machete tighter, Jongdae turns around so that he'll land on his back when the Infected will crash against him. Landing on his stomach would have been like signing his own death warrant with the Infected swooping down on him without letting him a chance to fight back. He braces himself for the upcoming shock, and it comes not even a second later. 

The Infected crashes against him so fast that Jongdae doesn't even see him. The shock throws him backwards, but he was more or less ready to such a violent collision, and when he lands on the ground, he's still gripping his machete tight. The air has been knocked out of his lungs though, and the fear lurking under all the adrenaline flooding him doesn't help. Gasping for air, Jongdae's reflexes urge him to crawl away, but the Infected doesn't let him a chance. Jongdae raises his machete, just when a darker shadow rips through the air above him, and the resistance he feels crashing against the bones in his wrist tells him he's touched the Infected. The body landing on top of him and the sharp pain slicing his cheek tells him it wasn't enough.

The smell of blood, heavy, ferrous, fills his nose, and the fear in his chest reaches a whole new level. Eyes wide open, Jongdae fights back a terrified scream as the creature's assaults rain on him. The Infected is all on fours on top of him, nails turned into claws always trying to reach his carotid, and his jaws clicking dangerously close to Jongdae's jawline. It takes Jongdae not more than two seconds to get over the surprise of the violence of the attack, and he finally pushes the Infected away with his feet and hands. The monster stumbles backwards, hips swaying in the most terrifying way to regain his balance, and Jongdae quickly gets back on his feet. 

He gags, fighting against the need to throw up as the Infected's rotten breath has filled his lungs, its acrid and pungent smell like a poison killing him from the inside. Jongdae looks up, eyes watering, and they settle on those, bloodshot and bestial, of the Infected. He can taste blood on the corner of his mouth, but the adrenaline is drowning the pain and he has no idea how serious the wound is. Yeri's lavender oil could fix it, but for that, Jongdae would have to go back to the car. He needs to kill the Infected, and kills him fast before the blood dripping on his cheek attracts other monsters. 

He tightens his grip on his machete and tenses his muscles, hoping that they'll be enough to shield him from the violence of the next assault. The Infected is watching him with hungry, tauting eyes. A huge part of his lips has been bitten off and is now missing, and it flashes his teeth in a frozen smirk. Jongdae can't help but shiver when the Infected brings his hand up and licks Jongdae's blood off his fingers. 

“Come on!” Jongdae screams at him. The Infected's head snaps towards him, slightly tilted on the side. “Come on!” Jongdae repeats. He wipes the blood from his cheek with his left hand and shakes it. “Don't you wanna take a bite?”

The Infected narrows his terrifying eyes at Jongdae, but he doesn't attack, and it leaves Jongdae dangerously confused. All the Infected he stumbled upon would have already tried to bite his head off, but this one is different. He looks like he is genuinely hesitating, eyes checking right and left before they settle on Jongdae again. It immediately reminds the latter of the alpha climbing up the roof earlier, but never attacking. 

_It's a trap_ , Jongdae realises. A fucking trap. He has no proof but he's sure the alpha knew he was in the bathroom, that they would leave the city by night, and maybe that Jongdae would come back here before going away, hence the Infected waiting for him in the dark. How much was he aware of, though? He knew Jongdae's tube of blood was a lure, and he obviously recognises Jongdae, but what now? Jongdae's breath dies down in the back of his throat as he lets out a weak whimper. He's always considered the Infected deprived of human intelligence, back to the state of wild and very aggressive animals, but this changes everything.

The Infected is watching him, with his head still tilted and the frozen smirk, and it drives Jongdae crazy. He crouches down, grabs a stone and throws it at the monster. It hits him on the cheekbone, tearing his skin apart, and the Infected screams at him with his ear-splitting voice as a greenish liquid escapes from the small wound.

“What?!” Jongdae answers. “You're not even going to try?!” 

The Infected shows his teeth, a guttural groan leaving his chest, and Jongdae lets out a hysterical chuckle. 

“Okay,” he says, sniffing while he nods. 

He throws another stone at the Infected who avoids it this time, with a sharp jump and another grumble. Jongdae glances at the dark road and the forest, fear turning to dread at the idea that the alpha might be on his way. He looks back at the Infected and takes a step back. The Infected crouches down, clicking his jaws at Jongdae, but doesn't move. 

“Okay,” Jongdae repeats, his voice trailing down. 

He takes another step back, eyes never leaving the Infected. The latter hesitates, fidgeting on the spot and swaying from right to left. His head snaps towards Jongdae when other high-pitched screams echo through the night, and Jongdae's heart jumps in his chest. He curses under his breath and turns around to dart towards the car. Behind him, the Infected follows suit with offended screams. He obviously won't eat Jongdae, otherwise he would have done it already, but he might change his mind when the rest of the pack, especially the alpha, will be there. All he'd need to do is catch Jongdae and make sure the latter doesn't disappear until his _friends_ are there. 

Jongdae lets out another whimper as he speeds up, but it's a lost cause. The Infected are fast, so fast. 

“Yeri! Open the door!”

He feels the bony fingers against his shoulderblades, and the fear exploding in his chest is violent enough to make him go even faster. Legs burning despite the small distance, Jongdae throws himself forwards, almost crashing against the car's door that Yeri just opened, but he doesn't waste his time trying to regain his balance. He lets himself fall on the seat with a groan, his legs still dangling outside. Yeri is watching him with wide eyes, hands frozen on the steering wheel. 

“What are you waiting for?!” Jondgae barks at her, and she startles, then franctically nods, immediately stepping on the gas. 

The Infected's hand slices the darkness as it aims directly at Jongdae's neck, but Jongdae was expecting the move. He raises his arm and puts down his machete. The blade cuts through the infected flesh, the skin tears apart so easily, then the bone, and it's almost hypnotizing. With a disgusted groan, Jongdae throws the cut hand away and kicks the now screaming in rage Infected away from the car so he can close the door before it has gained too much speed.

“You're bleeding,” Yeri says in a shivering voice. She keeps glancing at him with big scared eyes, and Jongdae hisses. 

“You're going fast, please keep your eyes on the road.”

“But you're bleeding,” Yeri whimpers. 

She looks terrified, and Jongdae can't blame her. He can't bring himself to lower the tiny mirror to check the gravity of the wound. If it's too deep, he's lost. He'll have to get out of the car and let Yeri drive away without him. 

“Is it bleeding a lot?” he asks Yeri, trying to sound in control and like he's not dead scared. 

Yeri glances at him, her eyes lowering to his cheek. She's tearing up, shaking and continuously adjusting her fingers on the wheel. Jongdae can almost feel her eyes checking his wound, following the trail of blood down his neck. It make his skin tickles, burns, and the fear rises in his chest. If he has to get out of the car, he'll run as fast as he can, as far as he can, but there's only so far you can run, and sooner or later, they'll catch him, be it the alpha's pack or another pack. His chances are low, unless he finds a spot where they can't reach him, and that he'll be able to leave when the wound would have healed. He'll try, of course. No one survives this long to give up.

“Yeri!” he calls her out, his patience wearing down under the threat of his possible nearing death. “Is it bleeding a lot or not?!”

Yeri startles, but she shakes her head. She lets go of the wheel with one hand and points at the pocket on her dress. 

“I—I have a bottle of lavender there. Break it.”

Jongdae freezes, his fingers already in Yeri's pocket. 

“What?”

“Break it!”

“Why would I break it?!” he snaps back, teetering on hystery. “I'm bleeding!”

“You put blood everywhere in the car!” Yeri screams at him. 

Jongdae frowns and looks down. Upon seeing the dark stain on the seat, and the one blooming on his shirt, larger at his collar and pointier when it reaches his stomach, he flinches, cursing. There's blood everywhere, blood on his hands, on his arms, on his shirt, and the smell is so overwhelming, so heavy. Jongdae whimpers, his heart immediately speeding up in his chest. He pulls his hand away from Yeri's pocket, and checks his shaking palms. In the absence of light, it looks brown, muddy, but Jongdae knows it's not dirt. It's thick, sticky, and it tastes like iron on the tip of his tongue. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses, panic taking the best of him. 

Yeri throws him a worried look. She eyes the road, or rather the few inches she can make out, and plunges her hand in her pocket. Pulling out the bottle of lavender, she throws it on the dashboard where it shatters in a hundred of glass crumbs. Jongdae watches her with wide eyes, his breath dying in the back of his throat. 

“I have another one in my backpack,” she tells him, her voice strong and unfaltering. “Now stop panicking, and use it to wash the cut.”

The surprise of seeing her so calm and in control when Jongdae is freaking out is actually enough to bring him back to his senses. Slightly ashamed of his breakdown, he merely nods, and shifts on his seat so he can slide on the back seat where they both put their bags. He catches Yeri's eyes following him through the rearview, full of worry, and it makes him even more uneasy. Looking away, he rummages through her bag to find the so-desired bottle of lavender oil. The Infected are fast, really fast, but Yeri is driving even faster. For now, the only immediate threat is the possibility of them becoming Smashers –or worse, Smashed--, but that is, obviously, only if Yeri's lavender works. 

Jongdae pours the oil in his palm, his hand curved in a makeshift bowl, and splashes it onto his wound. The oil penetrates the cut, and immediately burns when it touches the raw skin. Jongdae hisses, doubling over as he winces, but he rubs even more oil on his cheek, clenching his jaws. The greasy substance envelops his fingers, runs down his neck and drips on his arm, its color now of a faint diluted red. 

“You okay?” Yeri asks. 

“Yeah, it just burns like a bitch,” Jongdae answers.

He palpates his cheek, gritting his teeth while he does so, and his fingers soon discover three cuts, starting from his cheekbone and going down his jawline. One of them, deeper, keeps going on a few inches down his neck. He closes his eyes and presses his fingers inside the cuts, sliding them along the lips of the wounds so that the oil penetrates them even better. The burning sensation has him gasping and slightly vibrating as he bites his inner cheek. 

“I've been there,” Yeri lightly chuckles. 

Jongdae snorts, exchanging with her an amused look through the rearview. 

“So what now?” she finally asks. 

Jongdae considers the bottle in his hand, and the dried blood caught in his palm lines. He can hope the lavender has worked, but it's actually a difficult thing to be sure of when they're driving so fast. No Infected would attack them now, but how about when they'll get out of the car? Jongdae applies another handful of oil on his cheek, for good measure, and instinctively winces as he looks up at Yeri. 

“Now, we drive as far as we can from the meeting point, and we walk there. Hopefully, I won't lead the Infected to the others.”

“You won't,” Yeri assures him. 

Jongdae shrugs, putting back the bottle in Yeri's bag. The oil is running down on his chest and back, slow and thick, and the smell is so strong that it attacks his eyes and nose. He sure did pour a lot of it on his face, and the car itself is covered with the same greasy substance, but he can't be sure. They can never be sure when it comes to the Infected. At least, he's out of the alpha's reach, which is a good thing enough. 

“Thank you for the letter,” Yeri whispers a few moments later, her voice soft and covered with guilt. 

Jongdae is still too busy trying to come back from the burning fear to take care of it now, so he merely dismisses her concerned eyes with a slight gesture of the hand. He lets his head fall on the headrest and closes his eyes as Yeri takes another bend at full speed, the tires screeching. The oil running down his chest is making his skin ticklish, and the cuts throb on his cheek, but all in all, he's prefectly aware of how lucky he is to be alive. He used to be so cautious, so wary, but he's just risked his life to protect a lie. It was reckless, and also terribly unnecessarly when he could have just told the truth days ago, or even left. He hardly recognizes himself anymore. 

He keeps his eyes closed so Yeri won't talk to him, but the slumber he's so intent on giving himself in to never comes despite the fact that the last time he slept was over twenty four hours ago. In the darkness casted by his eyelids though, he promises himself he'll never take such risks anymore. Just thinking about the alpha and his terrifying intelligence makes him shiver, and if Jongdae wants to stay alive, he'll have to put himself first, and before Yeri. 

It's a hollow promise though, and he knows it very well, but Jongdae shuts down his thoughts before he can measure how fucked up he is.

 

 

Yeri stops the car an hour later, near a stream now crossing the road and using the concrecte's cracks and holes as its bed. Jongdae keeps his eyes closed while she runs her fingers on his cheek, checking the cuts. Her hand is soft on his face, careful and soothing. They stop for a very short second on his carotid, searching for Jongdae's pulse, and when they find it, she exhales a short relieved sigh. Jongdae keeps pretending he's fast asleep, heart beating a tad bit faster than it should, but she doesn't seem to notice. He hears some ruffling, then a few branches cracking as she walks away, and guesses from the sound of it that she's stopped by the stream. She comes back a few moments later, and soon enough, Jongdae feels something wet against his cheek. Yeri softly cleans the dried blood with a piece of fabric she teared apart, and when she's satisfied, she rubs a little more oil on his wounds, probably just in case. 

She's so gentle, delicate with him, that Jongdae's heart aches. He doesn't deserve her friendship, not after what he did to her best friend, and all those times he lied to her. She shouldn't be taking care of him. She shouldn't even be here, but with her friends, safe and sound. 

Jongdae opens his eyes just when she's reaching out to take both their bags. She flashes him a delighted smile and straightens, her bag in her hands.

“Rise and shine, oppa. I have something for you.”

Jongdae snorts. 

“What, did you stop by a mall to buy me a gift?”

“No, but you'll like it anyway,” Yeri chirps. 

She opens her bag, still holding it with one hand while the other rummages through it, and she finally pulls out a long sleeve shirt, of a delicate shade of ivory that wouldn't last a day out there. Jongdae doesn't need to check the tag to know that the shirt is probably too large for him, so he quirks a questioning eyebrow at Yeri, who smiles softly. She motions at Jongdae's current shirt with her head, and Jongdae looks down. It was Luhan's shirt before it became his, and he has absolutely no idea what color it was supposed to be before, but he knows for sure that the dark stains barely making out through the darkness make it the most dangerous shirt ever.

“It's one of Jongin's shirts,” Yeri explains him. “I must have taken it when we got attacked in the forest that day, and, well, you need it more than him for now.” She hands him the shirt. “We'll have to find a new one for you though, because this one's going to be too large. Jongin is much more taller than you.”

Jongdae takes the shirt between hesitant fingers, and Yeri takes his reluctence for shyness (how she could is a mystery). 

“I'll let you change. You should check your pants too. I don't have any, but maybe you can clean them with a little bit of water.”

Jongdae grumbles, slightly pushing her away so he can finally get off the car. Yeri lets him walk away to the stream, according him a few meters of intimacy. Glancing back over his shoulder, Jongdae finds her checking what's inside her bag, long hair merging in with the night and her dress catching the slight breeze. The irony honestly gets better and better, and if Jongdae was prompt to believe in notions such as fate and destiny, he would have been reading signs for days. Finding Yeri just after Jongin's death was already so laughable, but now he gets to wear one of his shirts while having the very same Yeri has a close friend. Jongdae wishes Yeri could walk away for a bit, so he could have a good laugh, or maybe throw up, he's not really sure. 

Pushing away his thoughts, he kneels down by the stream. They're outside, and sure, it's dark, but after what happened at the warehouse, it will take Jongdae quite a long time to feel safe by night. Senses on alert, he plunges his hands into the water and washes his face, his hair, before pulling off his current shirt. He rinses the dirt and the oil sticking to his chest, and runs his fingers on every inch of his skin he can reach, to make sure he hasn't hurt himself when he fell earlier. When his check-up is done, he gets back on his feet, and puts on Jongin's shirt. Unsurprisingly, it falls loosely on his shoulders, the sleeves so long Jongdae's fingers disappear inside. He remembers Jongin's long arms, and his large shoulders, and mentally snorts. It's better than a dirty, covered with blood shirt though, but Jongdae still needs to make sure it won't get in the way if he has to grab his machete, or just react quickly. He tucks it into his pants, rolls up the sleeves, and open the three buttons at the collar. The fabric is slightly thicker, but the fact that it fits loosely helps him keep his cool. The sensation of something clean against his skin is foreign, but so pleasant that Jongdae quickly forgets the not-so-pleasant one of the collar slipping on his shoulder. 

Jongdae finally walks back to the car after throwing his dirty shirt in the forest bordering the road. Yeri welcomes him with her dimpled smile, and her eyes lower on his figure. 

“It actually looks pretty good on you?” she says, amused. “Although Jongin is taller and more built, it oddly fits you. Like, it gives you a style.”

She hands him his bag, that Jongdae takes with a snort. 

“Thank god I'm still trendy,” Jongdae deadpans.

Yeri chuckles. She walks closer, and curls her fingers around his jaw to tilt his head and check his wounds. Jongdae winces when her index finger grazes the deeper cut, and she throws him a sorry look before taping a piece of fabric soaked with lavender oil on his cheek. Jongdae shuts his eyelids through both the pain and the strong effluvia attacking his eyes, until Yeri brushes the tip of his nose to tell him she's done. He cracks an eye open first, and can't help the tiny smile tugging at his lips when he catches Yeri's face, so close, and beaming. 

“Thanks,” he says. 

“Thank _you_ ,” she retorts, almost chants. 

Jongdae looks away. His fingers instinctively follow the scribbled hangeul on his bag's handle, sliding along the faded ink more because he memorized them than because he can feel them, and he finally slides the backpack on, the weight familiar and, somehow, comforting. 

“We better get going now,” he tells Yeri. “We still have a long walk ahead.”

Yeri nods. She already has her own bag on her back, and Jongdae's map in her hand. Seulgi used it earlier to mark the spot they're supposed to meet, but with how far Yeri's driven, it'll take them longer than planned to get there. It was part of the several case scenarios considered, so Jongdae isn't really worried. He knows Seulgi and the rest of the team will wait for them, but still, Jongdae isn't really fond of courting disaster. He sets up a quick pace that Yeri follows easily with graceful and perfectly silent strides. 

It takes her less than five minutes to break that precious silence Jongdae has learned to trust so much for his safety, but he's not that surprised. She's just like Jongin, young and impatient, and too eager to live in a world that barely allows them to survive. He indulges her, keeping his furrowed eyebrows to himself as her voice, curious, breaks the peacefulness. 

“Who is Kim Jongdeok?”

Jongdae glances at her as she shifts closer, bumping their elbows as if she was afraid that he would run away. 

“I have no idea.”

She scrunches up her face at him, and Jongdae chuckles. It's her own special way to tell him she's not fooled by his lies and faked indifferent remarks. He's seen that face more and more the last few days, as they grew closer. He retorts with one of his own special face, tongue sticking out, and Yeri chuckles. 

“So? Was he someone from your family?” she asks again. 

Jongdae sighs, memories of Jongdeok flooding his mind. He knows how stubborn Yeri is, and he knows she probably guessed that Jongdeok was his brother as well, but she's also curious, and eager. She won't drop the topic unless he tells her what happened. The thing is, Jongdae's not really keen on rambling about his brother. 

He adjusts the bag on his shoulder, uneasy under Yeri's strong gaze, and sighs for the second time. 

“I'm not going to do this, Yeri. It's pitch black, and we have no idea if the Infected can smell me or not. Let's not share heart-wrenching stories about what our lives used to be, okay?”

Yeri has the audacity to pout at him, but it somehow lightens the atmosphere, and even the memories of Jongdeok. Jongdae flashes her a tiny smile that has her deflating as she understands the talk's over. 

“At least tell me if he was older or younger than you,” she pouts. 

Jongdae snorts. Jongdeok would have been raising a judging eyebrow at her if he had been there, sticking out his chest so she would pay more attention. He was so prompt on bragging about his manlier features, his height -barely two centimeters more to be honest- and the more mature look plastered on his face. No one ever thought Jongdae was the oldest of the two. It's a question Jongdae's never heard, actually. 

Yeri watches him, a soft smile curling her lips. If she guessed Jongdeok was Jongdae's brother, she also probably guessed why he's not here right now, but she tackles the topic with an easiness that Jongdae envies her. He's heard her talk about her little sisters, who all died or got infected during the first days after the Misty Days, with more smiles than sad eyes. She's such a paradox, so accepting of what the world has become, and at the same time, so attached to notions that can't possibly survive through the daily slaughters. 

Jongdae sighs, this time more lightly. Yeri's weird enthusiasm is rubbing off on him. 

“Older,” he finally reveals. Her delighted face forces a smile out of him, and he slightly shakes his head. “Jongdeok was two years older than me.”

“You were the dongsaeng,” she chuckles, obviously finding it very amusing. 

“I was, indeed,” he nods.

Yeri giggles, a sound Jongdae hasn't heard in months. He watches her, amused and affection swelling in his chest as she looks at the road before her, still beaming. She's probably trying to picture what dongsaeng Jongdae looked like, and it seems so entertaining for her that Jongdae kind of jumps on the flow. In all honesty, his brother could do everything he wanted with him, Jongdae was so easy to bully at home -probably because Jongdeok had a very painful technique when it came to punching him in the arm-, far from the cheeky and sassy kid he was with his friends.

“So what happened?” Yeri asks. “Did he turn into an Infected?”

Her question immediately darkens the bubbly feelings Jongdae had rising up his chest. He thinks about his parents' ear-splitting screams as they tried to break through the bathroom door, and Jongdeok's terrified eyes when he took their father's straight razor with shaking fingers. He breathes in, and stops. Yeri barely took one more step before coming to a halt as well, and turning over him. 

“You should get a head start,” he tells her. “Thirty minutes or so. Just in case Infected are smelling me.”

Yeri's eyebrows shoot up, but she doesn't argue. She merely nods, hesitant. 

“If so, I'd be more helpful by your side--”

“No, you wouldn't. If they are indeed smelling me, I'm done. I'll have nowhere to hide, and you shouldn't get caught in the crossfire. Go, and walk fast, okay? I'll be just thirty minutes behind you.”

Yeri bites her lower lip. She glances at the darkness spreading at her feet, fidgeting on the spot. 

“Oppa--”

“Go,” he orders, voice stronger and conclusive. 

Yeri deflates. She nods, and throws him a concerned glance. 

“Don't be late,” she whispers, almost begs, before finally turning on her heels. 

Jongdae watches the night engulf her silhouette, shadows eating at her curves, until there's nothing left of her except the faint sound of her soles hitting the concrete. Her absence comes with a poisoned relief, and a heavy, so heavy, loneliness. Adjusting his bag on his shoulder, Jongdae walks to the grass now almost as high as him, and sits down. His watch's ticking is the only thing joining the bugs' songs now.

 

 

The first rays of sunlight are piercing the horizon when Jongdae finally catches up with Yeri and the rest of the group. Suhyun is sitting crossed-legs on the grass, but the others are all standing up, looking very uncomfortable under the rising heat, and Jongdae can't blame them. He's been running through the past few miles, the delicate pink painting the horizon weighing on him like a death omen. He sprints on the last straight line, and finally stops before the others in a barely controlled skid that has him stumbling, until Soojung grabs his arm. He thanks her with a short nodding before bending down to try and catch his breath, his hand on his knees. 

Yeri must have told them everything in the thirty minutes or so she spent alone with them, because when Seulgi crouches down to catch his eyes, she doesn't look surprised at the cuts on his cheeks. 

“So?” she asks, slightly urging. “Have they...?”

Jongdae shakes his head, still out of breath. He straightens up and swallows his saliva. Jongin's shirt is sticking to his skin, glued by the sweat. It's already so hot, and the sun isn't even out yet. 

“Nothing,” he breathes out. “The oil has worked.”

They all sigh in relief, and Jongdae can only share the feeling. It had been so nerve-wracking to walk through the darkness all alone, wondering if he had a pack of Infected following the trail left by the blood or not, but if it had been the case, Jongdae wouldn't be here. He probably walked by a few nests, and if none of the Infected woke up and chased him, it means that he's pretty safe. As safe as one can be in this world. 

“Okay,” Seulgi says. She points at a perpendicular road, less large than the main one they're still standing on, and Jongdae notices a house at the far end. “We're gonna spend the day there. We already checked the surroundings. The terrain is flat, and the house is surrounded by fields. We'll have a great view over the main road, and everything else. So if the oil stops working for whatever reason, we'll see it pretty soon. It should give us time to run.”

Jongdae nods, looking at the house again. It's nothing more than a black square against the horizon line for now, but Seulgi's right. It'll give them quite a lead if they do end up being attacked. If it happens though, Jongdae won't run with them, of course. The fields surrounding the house will give them several possibilities to flee, east to west, north to south, which is also a very good thing. He glances back at Seulgi, and finds her staring at him, waiting for his opinion, so Jongdae nods a second time, this time more assured. 

“Okay,” Seulgi concludes. “Let's go before the sun sets.”

They all put their bags on their backs in unison. Junmyeon helps Suhyun on her feet, and both Yeri and Soojung come to walk by Jongdae's side. As they start walking, the latter spots Kyungsoo looking back at him, with dark and angry eyes, and his blood freezes. 

Soojung catches him, and she chuckles lightly. 

“Don't mind Kyungsoo, he's not that fond of you. I think he would have liked it better if you got killed tonight,” she says, as if it was a laughing matter. 

Yeri looks offended. 

“Don't say that!” she exclaims before turning to look at Jongdae. “Don't believe what Soojung is saying, oppa. Kyungsoo oppa is just very worried about our safety, and the fact that you're wounded makes him even more wary, that's it.”

“Yeah,” Jongdae approves. He exchanges a discreet look with Soojung, the latter smiling. “That must be it.”

Yeri nods vigorously. She glares at Soojung, for good measure, and takes Jongdae's hand. She looks so worried by the fact that Jongdae might feel unwelcome, that she uses the short ten minute long walk to the house to soothe him, thumb stroking Jongdae's or her arm pressing into his. She forgets her concern when they reach the house though, and Jongdae can't really blame her. He looks up, eyes bulging at the towering structure as she lets go of his hand. 

“It's _huge_ ,” she gasps. The surprise on her face soon turns into excitement as she turns towards them. “It's probably full of food! I'll cook you all something delicious!”

She dashes off towards the house, under Junmyeon's soft chuckling. He glances at Seulgi and slightly shakes his head before following Yeri. 

“Let's go” Seulgi smiles. “Let's eat something delicious and then sleep.”

The tiredness and worry on her face fade away, replaced by a lighter feeling as she puts her arm over Taehyung's shoulder. The latter smiles back at her, grabs Suhyun's hand and drags her towards the front door, now wide opened. They all look so clashing with how they were only a few minutes ago under the shy orange rays of sunlight, so relieved to have found a shelter for the day in such an abandonned place, and Jongdae can't say he's not sharing the feeling. Sleeping sounds amazing right now. 

Soojung smiles at him, motioning him with her head towards the house. 

“Come on,” she says before walking through the front door. 

Jongdae is just about to do the same, his left foot on the first step of the patio when something catches his eyes. He frowns as a single ray of sunshine hits something on the right side of the house, exploding in a blinding silver reflection. He blinks away the now white spot in his eyes, and walks down the stairs, curiosity taking its toll on him. 

It's a car, he notices, which isn't surprising. He's pretty sure that part of China was also under the Mist, which means everything stayed pretty much the same, because of how abrupt and sudden the virus was in the thick fog. Something about the car, though, makes him walk closer. He notices the dirt on the tires, and the total absence of leaves on the hood despite the tree towering over it. 

Jongdae frowns. It's just a car though, nothing to be worried about. He glances at the house over his shoulder, and looks back at the vehicle, a little confused as to why he feels so uncomfortable. He walks closer, in tiny steps, and checks the inside through the front windows. It's unsurprisingly empty. His last meeting with the Infected probably left its scars, Jongdae muses. He's being freaked out by an empty and very plain car. 

Shrugging off his bad feeling, Jongdae straightens, ready to turn on his heel and join the peacefulness of the house. He freezes when his eyes slide over the car's hood though, and his heart explodes in his chest. 

Someone has scratched the red paint and drawn a huge Chinese character. Jongdae can read that one easily, and he also knows that it was written on the car with the car's keys, and that the sound of it was terrible, piercing and so unpleasant. He knows it, because he's witnessed it a few times before. That's how Luhan marks his belongings, cars, guns or even humans. Jongdae used to have the same character on the small of his back, the black ink clashing with his skin.

Jongdae immediately looks away from the huge _Luhan_ spread out on the hood, and turns on his heel, darting off towards the house. 

He takes Seulgi's gun still in his belt as he jumps over the few front steps. He forces himself to slow down as he raises the gun in front of him, his hold on the grip secured and firm while the other hand pushes the door, now ajar, open wide. He tiptoes inside the lobby, heart beating like crazy in his temple. There's not a sound in the house, no sign of Yeri, or anyone else. Jongdae stops on the wooden floor, his eye following the barrel of his gun as the latter slide on the three different doors, and he internally curses. It's a trap, of course it's a trap, Luhan must have seen them coming, and all he had to do was wait for Jongdae to enter the house. He also knows that Luhan likes to play with his victims, he likes to make them know who's in charge. Yeri is probably still alive, just like everyone else, because Luhan wouldn't kill them without an audience, and right now, his audience is Jongdae. 

Heart beating loudly in his temples, Jongdae lowers his gun, giving in with a sigh. 

“Hey?” he asks out loud, and nor the chuckle, nor the voice answering is Yeri's. 

“In the living room, babe!” says the voice, teasing, laughing.

Jongdae glances down at the gun, checking the safety catch. Oddly enough, he's not as scared as he thought he'd be if Luhan found him again, and he probably needs to thank the alpha for that. He's seen, and _been chased_ by much more terrifying than a megalomaniac Chinese dude with a taste for blood baths and unhealthy relationships too strong. Jongdae managed to fool him once, he can make it happen yet. He's mostly worried about his friends, about Yeri. 

“Come on Jongdae, don't make me look for you, you know I hate hide and seek,” says the voice again, the underlying threat in the accentuated intonations now stronger, more obvious. 

“I'm coming!” Jongdae answers. 

He raises his gun again, and aims into thin air as he walks to the closest door. Pushing it with the palm of his hand, the first things he sees are Soojung, Seulgi, Taehyung and Kyungsoo standing in line, all of them their guns in their hands, and aiming at something on the other side of the room. Suhyun is also standing her ground, even if she's just brandishing her knife. She looks as threatening as the others though. Jongdae knows how much courage she needs to do so, but she's not faltering, her eyebrows furrowed and her knuckles white on her knife. 

Jongdae pushes the door on the last few inches, and the rest of the room fills his vision field. Luhan is there, of course, his bright smile perched on his lips as his dark, dark eyes, follow Jongdae's every gesture. His face is still as round, as soft and innocent looking as it was before, but Jongdae knows better than to let himself get tricked. Luhan is flanked by some of his loyal acolytes, but there are only six of the ten Jongdae was expecting. Which means, he realises with a delight he doesn't bother to hide, that his plan to escape worked pretty well. Six are more than enough to do a lot of damage though since they're all pointing their guns at them, and considering that two of them are holding Yeri and Junmyeon and pressing their barrels on their temples, the advantage is definitely in Luhan's team. 

Jongdae keeps a straight face as his eyes slide over Luhan's crew, barely stopping on Yeri and Junmyeon's faces, both of them looking very terrified. He can't show Luhan how scared he, himself, is, because Luhan would make the best of it. If he suspects the slightest affection between him and Yeri, she'll be gone in the blink of an eye. So Jongdae focuses on Luhan. He lowers his gun, and flashes him a smile. 

“Hey Luhan,” he says. “What's up?”

Luhan's nostrils flare out of anger, and he aims his own gun straight at Jongdae's chest. The latter's absence of reactions seems to piss him off even more. 

“I'll tell you what's up, you piece of shit. Your little trick killed a few of my friends, and I'll make you pay for that.” Something darker flashes through his eyes, and if Jongdae didn't know him any better, he would take it for sadness. “Minseok died because of you.”

Jongdae raises an eyebrow, confused. 

“Minseok?” he muses. “Who-- _oh_. You mean that guy you kept saying you were so madly in love with before fucking _me_? Well, that was such a healthy relationship, you should thank me for putting an end to it.”

Luhan's eyes flash red, and he raises his gun a little higher, now aiming at Jongdae's forehead. The latter feels the skin tickle up there, as if trying to resorb to escape to the deadly threat. Jongdae doesn't flinch though, holding Luhan's gaze with an indifference he's far from feeling. He hears Taehyung gasps behind him but, thank god, none of his friends say anything. 

“Cut the sass, Jongdae,” Luhan snaps. “I have your people at my mercy.”

Jongdae snorts. “My people? Please Luhan, I thought you'd know me better than that by now. You know I don't do people, or at least, not how you're meaning it. Because I actually _do_ them, and then I clear off with their stuff. But it's not a big revelation for you, isn't it, Luhan?”

Luhan looks away, staring at Seulgi and the others behind Jongdae. The latter doesn't dare looking over his shoulder, but he hopes they're all following his act, otherwise, they might as well open fire now, and die, their bodies riddled with bullets. 

Luhan smiles, putting a hand on his hip. Jongdae pretends he doesn't see how the barrel of his gun slides over his whole body. 

“Okay,” Luhan says. “So who's sleeping with him?”

Jongdae's blood turns into ice in his veins as the first seconds of silence draw out. Luhan's eyes are already coming back to him, paired up with a triumphant smile that has Jongdae breaking into a cold sweat. Luhan is mean and cruel, yes, but he's not stupid, and without anyone to back up Jongdae with his story, Luhan will spot the lie easily. If he does, he'll probably kill them all one by one, making sure that Jongdae is enjoying the view, and let him deal with the hungry Infected attracted by the slaughter like flies on a pile of dirt.

“I am,” a strong voice says behind him. 

Jongdae keeps a straight face as Luhan's eyes settle on Soojung. He sizes her up, and glances at Jongdae, who tries to look as nonchalant as possible. 

“Really?” Luhan muses. He doesn't look like he's expecting an answer though. He watches Soojung with a thoughtful pout as he strokes his chin with the barrel of his gun. Oh, the things Jongdae would do for Luhan to pull the trigger. 

Luhan suddenly straightens. He turns towards Junmyeon and aims. The bullet leaves the chamber with a loud detonation that has Jongdae startling, and Yeri whimpering, but the loudest reaction is Soojung's. 

“No!” she yells, and although Jongdae doesn't dare to look around to see her face, he's pretty sure she looks as terrified as she was when they were in the bathroom with the Infected on the roof. Her voice has sliced the air, hoarse, desperate and _so_ terrified. The gasp she lets out when she realises Luhan shot at the floor just next to Junmyeon's feet is just as revealing.

Luhan grins, and Jongdae slowly closes his eyes. 

_So much for no significant others, Soojung,_ he thinks.

When he opens his eyes again, Luhan is watching him with a wide smile, his gun back at aiming at Jongdae's forehead. 

“Who's your favorite, Jongdae?” Luhan asks in a unctuous voice. “Tell me, who should I kill?”

Jongdae lowers his gun until it's not a threat to Luhan and his friends anymore, and does his best to keep his eyes settled on Luhan's face. He can see Junmyeon's wide eyes from the edges of his vision, and Yeri's terrified face, so pale, so delicate. 

“Look, Luhan, you can't kill us,” Jongdae starts. He's stopped pretending and playing, and his next few words might be their only chances to get out of this house alive. 

“Yeah? Why not?” Luhan snorts. 

“Because,” Jongdae's voice trails down. He finally takes a look at his friend over his shoulder, and is relieved to see they didn't falter, and are still brandishing their weapons. In Kyungsoo and Soojung's case, it's even _two_ weapons. Seulgi also has her katanas, and the medieval weapons threatening on her back. Jongdae meets her eyes, and she gives him a short nod to tell him she'll have his back if he decides to attack. But Jongdae would rather not, because Luhan's minders are also quite well armed. 

“If you attack,” Jongdae continues. “We will too. And can you be sure you can kill us all before _we_ kill you? What if you end up getting hurt? The Infected will show up in numbers, and way too fast for you to have a chance to runaway. We're in a dead-end, and you know it. It's too risky.”

Luhan narrows his eyes at him, but Jongdae knows his words did the trick when he spots a glint of realisation in Luhan's eyes. 

“What are you suggesting? That I let you go just like that? Minseok died because of you!”

Jongdae sighs as Luhan takes a step forward, his gun still firmly aimed at Jondgae's head. The latter raises a soothing hand while he puts his gun back into his belt, in slow gestures. 

“Jongdae!” Yeri protests when Jongdae raises his other hand, now free from his gun. 

Jongdae winces, but he doesn't react, doesn't look at Yeri. His eyes remain glued to Luhan's, and he slowly shakes his head. There's something lurking behind Luhan's irises, but he doesn't what it is. He doesn't like it at all, though, and a cold shudder curls around his spine when he spots Luhan taking a quick glance at Yeri. Time is running out, they need to get the fuck out of here as fast as possible.

“Of course not,” Jongdae says. “You let me go because it's the only way to stay alive, but you don't give up on me. You keep chasing me, hunting me down until I drop dead out of fear, because we both know it's what you like the most, isn't it? The thrill, the hunt, the _game_. You play the puppeteer, and I play the puppet. But not here, not when it could kill you.” He gestures behind him with a slight movement of his shoulder. “That's a lot of guns,” he continues. “Are you willing you to bet your life on it?”

Luhan considers him for the longest time. Jongdae's heart is thumping loudly in his temples, so much that it's blocking every sound that doesn't come from him. He hears himself breathe, swallow, and even pray that Luhan will let them go. Fear is swelling in his chest when he thinks about the murders he's seen Luhan commits, how he killed those Immune so easily, and he realises a heartbeat later that he's even more scared to see Luhan kill Yeri than getting killed himself. What if Luhan shoots Soojung? Seulgi? Sweet Suhyun? Or anyone, really. What if he decides to get his revenge, no matter the price, and kill all of Jongdae's friends before him? Jongdae should have sliced his throat open, he should have left him bleeding out to death in that bed, he should have made sure they were all dead. How he regrets his haste to walk away now. 

“Okay,” Luhan finally says. “Okay, I'll let you go.” One of his friends opens his mouth to protest, and Luhan throws a few Chinese words at him. It's obviously a trap, but it still gives them more chances than if they stayed in this deadly head-to-head. 

Jongdae doesn't dare to move though, and Luhan glares at him. 

“I said okay,” he repeats. “Don't play with my patience, Jongdae.”

He walks to Yeri, and Jongdae tenses, hand shooting down to his gun again, but Luhan only grabs her arm and pushes her towards him. He watches Jongdae's hand on the grip, and flashes him an ugly rictus. Jongdae draws out his gun again, just in case, as Taehyung grabs Yeri's hand and drags her behind them. 

“The other now,” Jongdae orders. 

Luhan gestures to his friend still holding Junmyeon, and the Chinese man finally lets go of Junmyeon. The latter jumps away, like a scared rabbit, and glances over his shoulders before hastily walking towards Soojung and the others. She immediately puts a gun in his hand, and Junmyeon immeidately aims it at the man who was holding him back. 

“Calm down,” Luhan chirps. “No firing, that was the deal.” He smiles at Jongdae, cold and manipulative. “Now go, you and your friends before I decide it's time for me to play again.”

Jongdae takes a first step back, but nothing happens. Luhan's friends don't flinch even though they're still aiming their gun at them, and Luhan is still smiling as he watches him. Jongdae throws a look over his shoulder. 

“Let's go,” he says to Seulgi who nods shortly. 

She pushes Suhyun out of the room, then Taehyung and Yeri. They're quickly followed by Junmyeon, that Soojung forces out of the living room, and Kyungsoo, whose voice can be heard through the walls as he urges the younger to start walking. Soon enough, only Soojung, Seulgi and Jongdae are still in the room, their weapons aimed at their ennemies. 

“Little girls,” Luhan taunts them. “Trying to play with the big boys.”

Jongdae looks over at Soojung, before she has the terrible idea to protest. 

“Let's go,” he repeats, voice stronger. 

Soojung shortly nods. She glares at Luhan, and walks through the door, her gun never leaving Luhan's smiling face until she's out. Seulgi follows her, and Jongdae is finally alone with Luhan. He puts his second hand on his gun's grip, and steps back until he reaches the door. Luhan's smile only grows wider with every step he takes, and his smug look manages to turn the fear into anger. 

“Go to hell,” Jongdae snarls. 

He turns around and almost runs through the lobby. 

“I'll see you there!” Luhan screams behind him. 

Jongdae slams the door behind him, and jumps over the front steps. Yeri runs to him, but Jongdae grabs her arms and pushes her towards the road without stopping. 

“Run,” he tells her, urging. 

“We could take them all,” Soojung intervenes as they all start walking to keep up with Jongdae. 

“No we can't,” Jondgae says. Yeri throws him a terrified look that has Jongdae curling a hand over the small of her back. 

“Trust me,” he says again, his voice stronger, cutting, as he glares at Soojung. “You can't. Now you better run.” He looks over his shoulder, at Kyungsoo who's still aiming at the windows as he walks backwards. “All of you,” Jongdae calls out to him. “We need to run. Now!”

He lets go of Yeri's back and takes her hand instead as he throws himself forward. She lets out a gasp of surprise, but starts running immediately, and to Jongdae's relief, Soojung follows suit, as well as Taehyung, Suhyun, Junmyeon and Seulgi. A quick glance over his shoulder tells him Kyungsoo has started to run too. They need to get back on the main road as soon as possible, because they're too exposed in the middle of the fields. Bullets can still reach them, and he's pretty sure Luhan was counting on that. 

He glances at Yeri, who's still running as fast as she can, and he squeezes her hand. She throws him a look, and just like him, she looks like she's expecting something to happen. Jongdae can't help the horrible thought from crossing his mind, that at least, Yeri as much more chances to get out of that mess alive than inside the house, that they could be aiming at anyone else right now, and maybe not Yeri. Who would he be ready to sacrifice for her, though? He pushes away the thought in favor of the old and familiar breathless sensation taking over his lungs, but he doesn't slow down anyway. 

He understands Luhan's plan the second he hears the engine running. He glances over his shoulder, and unsurprisingly spots the red car starting to move. A rush of both fear and adrenaline gets to him, as he looks straight ahead of him again. Taehyung and Suhyun have already reached the main road, and are now rushing to the bordering forest, but most of them are still way too much exposed, and with how fast the car is going, the tires printing themselves on the concrete, they won't make it. 

Jongdae tenses his arm muscles and uses all the strength he can gather to propel Yeri forward. Thankfully, she doesn't stop running, even when he stops dead in his tracks and draws his gun out. His speed makes it harder for him to keep his balance, but even half stumbling, Jongdae raises his gun and aims at the car while Yeri keeps running. Kyungsoo takes her hand and runs with her, but both Soojung and Seulgi stop. Junmyeon tries to stop as well, but Soojung keeps pushing him to the point that he stumbles backwards and lands in the ditch. 

Jongdae starts shooting way before his bullets can actually reach the car, but, more in control, Seulgi and Soojung both wait. Jongdae's aim doesn't suffer from how scared and powerless the car makes him feel though, since he ends up shooting right through the windshield. Luhan ducks, escaping the bullet just in time, and Jondgae curses. The car drives by him with no shots fired, which leaves Jongdae confused and lost, until, at least, he spots the back window rolling down. 

His eyes immediately go over Yeri and Kyungsoo, both still running towards the forest, and he feels his heart explode in his chest. He darts off, screaming Yeri's name, but the car gets there before him, of course, and Jongdae watches, powerless and horrified. 

He was expecting a gun, maybe a handgrenade, why not? Not a cinder block, anyway. It stands out for a terrifying second against the pastel colours of the early sky, ugly grey against the mellowness of the light, and it finally falls down, fast and deadly. Alerted by Jongdae's screams, Yeri looks over her shoulder to check up on him, but the heavy worry on her face quickly disappear as the cinder block crashes on her head and she immediately collapses, dragging Kyungsoo in her fall. 

Jongdae feels like his organs are bursting one by one as he runs as fast as he can, eardrums shrilling and blood burning. When he reaches Yeri, the car is far gone, with a last peal of laughter from Luhan. 

“No, no, no, no, no,” Jongdae begs into thin air as he lets himself fall on his knees next to Yeri. He barely glances at Kyungsoo who's getting on all fours with wide, so wide eyes. 

Yeri's body is shaking with uncontrollable spasms, her legs, so pale, so thin, hitting the concrete, and her hair, her beautiful hair, spread out under her head, soaked by the puddle of blood escaping from the deep hole in her head. Jongdae bites back a sob as he brings his hand up to the wound, but he stops when he sees that it's even larger than his palm. Fingers shaking, he glances down at Yeri's closed eyes, at her eyebrows twitching, and the her lips partying on faint groans. 

“Yeri,” he moans. Determined, he cups her face to stop it from shaking and moving every which way. He feels the burning taste of bile filling his mouth when his right fingers dig into something mushy and wet where there should only be Yeri's skin. 

“Oh god,” he hears Kyungsoo whisper, as through a distant dream, and someone starts crying next to him, but Jongdae doesn't pay attention to them. Between his hands, Yeri's head slowly stops shaking, just like the rest of her body, but Jongdae's fingers keep holding her. He knows what it means, he can see the cinder block from the edge of his vision, and the spongy substance on it, just like he sees the small bits splattered all around Yeri's face. Pieces of bones scattered all around the place, and pieces of what made Yeri Yeri, what made her thoughts and her stubborn need to use formal Korean. 

“Jongdae,” Seulgi says next to him, her voice shaking. She puts a hand on his shoulder, but Jongdae quickly pulls away. “Jondgae, we need to leave, now... There's too much blood...”

Jongdae looks up, glaring at Seulgi. He's pretty sure it's a chunk of skin with a few strands of hair attached to it next to Seulgi's feet. 

“Go,” he tells her. His voice breaks. 

Seulgi bites her lips, breathing in slowly to fight back the tears already running down her cheeks. 

“Jongdae,” she pleads, but she quickly stops upon catching the look on Jongdae's face. 

“Jongdae?” Soojung asks as well. She's the one crying, a strand of black and yellow hair sticking to her cheek, glued to her skin by the salty water escaping from her eyes. Jongdae watches her for a short second before looking down at Yeri. “Jongdae!” Soojung cries out. 

“Are you going to wait until the Infect come?” Jongdae screams as well, so high that his voice breaks around some of the syllables. He draws his gun and aims at Soojung and Seulgi, who is helping Kyungsoo on his feet. “Go the fuck away! Go! Now!”

Soojung furiously shakes her head, but Seulgi grabs her arm and tries to drag her towards the forest. 

“No!” she yells. “You're coming with us!” 

She pushes Seulgi away and takes a first step towards Jongdae, but the latter shoots at the concrete. She startles, and stares at him, betrayal filling her eyes as she starts to sob. Junmyeon takes her hand and tries to drag her with him, but she keeps her feet firmly planted on the ground. Jongdae sniffles, glaring at her. He motions towards the forest with his head. 

“Go,” he orders again, this time softer. “They're coming.”

And they are, indeed, coming. Jongdae seriously hopes Yeri's blood smells the best to them, because he won't let them have a drop of it. He hopes they're already licking their lips, stomachs growling at the fest they think they're going to enjoy, because he wants them to understand he's taking it away from them, he wants them to suffer, he wants them to be _sad_ before he kills them. 

“Soojung, please,” Junmyeon begs her, tugging at her hand repeatedly. 

Soojung looks over her shoulder, at the ruckus going through the forest, her posture back at being on alert despite the tears still half blinding her. She's still not moving though, when even Kyungsoo is steping back, eyes irremediably attracted by Suhyun and Taehyung waiting for them by the forest. Jongdae shoots another time, this time above their head, and aims at Soojung when she looks at him. She furiously shakes her head, pleading, but Jongdae doesn't falter. 

“Get the fuck out of here,” he snaps at her. 

Junmyeon glances at Yeri's body one last time, but the sadness and the pain on his face disappear, leaving room for a harsh determination. He wraps an arm around Soojung's waist, urging, and drags her towards the trees. Upon seeing them finally moving, Kyungsoo starts to run towards Taehyung and Suhyun. Soojung pulls Junmyeon's arm away, taking his hand instead, and she looks at Jongdae over her shoulder, pleading, begging, but Jongdae doesn't move. Seulgi is also walking away, her back still turned on the forest, and when Jongdae looks at her, she blinks away her tears, gives him a short nod, and turns on her heels. Jongdae watches them run into the woods, and then disappear between the trees. He thinks he hears Soojung scream his name again, but he doesn't dwell on it. It's not his business anymore. 

He looks down at Yeri, and closes his eyes, the tears burning the back of his eyelids. He doesn't pay attention to the blood staining his hands as he leans down and presses his forehead against Yeri's for a short second. 

“Jongin's dead,” he whispers, not wanting to open his eyes. Yeri's blood is filling his nose, stronger than the smell of lavender always sticking to her skin. “He loved you so much, you know...”

A ear-splitting scream startles him, and Jongdae looks up only to see that the first Infected has come out of the forest. It's a woman, whose jaws keep clicking as if she was already tearing apart pieces of Yeri, but Jondgae would like to see her try. He shifts on his knees, taking his time to aim at her, and shoots, emptying the chamber on her. The bullets hit her body with muffled sounds, green foam immediately escaping from the wounds, but she doesn't stop. The only way to kill an Infected is to go for the heart or the head, since the green pus filling their bodies keeps them from bleeding to death. So Jongdae keeps his last bullet for the dirty skin on the woman's forehead, waiting for the very last moment, for that specific second she thinks she won the game, to shoot. She falls without a groan, her eyes still opened. 

Jongdae checks the chamber, and upon seeing it empty, he curses and throws the gun away. Two more Infected just left the woods, and there are probably a lot more to come, but there's no way Jongdae will leave Yeri alone. He takes her hand and drags her closer, taking his machete with his free hand, determined eyes waiting for the Infected. 

The first one of the two reaching him throws himself forward, mouth already open on the first bite he's so eager to have, and the hunger driving him makes it so easier for Jongdae to kill him. A single flick of the wrist, and his blade splits his head in two. Jongdae's machete is buried too deep for him to pull it back though, and he lets go of it before the Infected falls to the ground, so that it doesn't twist his wrist. Now weaponless, and with the second Infected way too close, fear takes him by surprise, and Jongdae recoils. He trips over Yeri's legs and falls on his butt with a scared whimper. 

The second Infected screams, delighted at the idea of having two bodies to eat instead of one. Jongdae sees his leg muscles tense in slow motion as he gets ready to jump on his prey. Jongdae gasps and throws himself forward to shield Yeri's body with his own. The fear burning white in the edge of his vision isn't enough to block the curiosity though, and Jongdae looks up, expecting to see Death in the shape of what used to be a human flying towards him. Instead, though, he sees Death in the shape of an arrow flying towards the Infected. It passes smoothly through the skull of the Infected, and finally stops when half of the arrow pops out of the creature's left eye. The Infected drops dead with a thud.

Adrenaline is flooding Jongdae's veins. He hastily gets back on his feet and rushes to the dead Infected. He grabs the handle of his machete, and presses his foot on the Infected's chest. He pulls hard on his weapon, groaning with the effort, until his machete finally comes out with a gurgling sound and a geyser of green pus and bits of black and dried brain. Jongdae winces at the smell, so acrid it burns his eyes. It's a short duration disgust though, because a new choir of groans and shrieks draws back his attention to the forest. A pack of five Infected is now running towards him, and Jongdae whimpers. He steps back, and finally turns towards the arrow still buried deep in the Infected skull. Considering that his gun is useless, one more weapong wouldn't be bad, even if it's just an arrow without a bow, so Jongdae curls his fingers around the arrow's tail and pulls as hard as he can. The arrow barely moves, but Jongdae can't take it with both hands, since his other fingers are currently tightly secured around his machete. He glances at the Infected, only two meters away now, and curses. 

Jongdae raises his arm, gathering all the strength he can to finally throw his machete at the first Infected. The blade disappears in his chest, right where the rotten heart is, and the Infected trips and falls. There are still four of them though, and even if Jongdae could pull out the arrow in the last couple of seconds left before the collision, an arrow wouldn't save his life. 

He gasps when he catches the leading Infected jumping towards him, and immediately crouches down. Nails graze his hair, but the Infected was running too fast, and at such speed, he can't react fast enough to grab Jongdae's hair. He lands on the concrete a couple of meters behind Jongdae with a furious yell. Jongdae lets go of the arrow's tail and breaks the shaft in half to pull out the part with the broadhead, his heart beating erratically in his chest. Just when he's about to get back on his feet though, something hits him at full speed, and sends him flying backwards. Adrenaline blocks the pain, and Jongdae raises both his feet, kicking the Infected who crashed against him and is now jumping on him. The creature stumbles backwards, earning Jongdae a precious few seconds that he uses to shift on all fours and finally get back on his feet. 

He lets out a furious scream when he catches the three other Infected gathered around Yeri, one of them licking straight into the hole of her head. Without thinking, Jongdae jumps on his back, raises the arrow's broadhead above him, and buries it as deep as he can in the top of the Infected's head. He feels the resistance of the skull as the Infected throws back his head with a mad scream of pain. Jongdae forces on the arrow with clenched jaws while he tries to secure his position by locking his thighs around the Infected's neck. A violent swerve almost destabilizes him and makes him let go of the arrow, still sticking out of the Infected's head. Jongdae groans, arms swaying on his sides to try and regain his balance, but two strong hands suddenly grip him. Fingers dig into the cuts on his cheeks, tearing the skin further apart, and clench his arm with so much strength that they pierce the skin and make the veins under burst. Jongdae moans with pain as he lands on his back and gets dragged on the ground by the fourth Infected. He's weaponless, and alone against too many Infected, there's no way he'll make out of this alive, and he knows it very well. Bracing himself for his upcoming death, Jongdae looks down at his feet, at Yeri's body drawing away as the Infected keeps luging him farther away. He feels tears prickle in his eyes when the three other Infected all swoop down on her in a mess of delighted groans that soon turns into a cacophony of flesh teared apart and bones cracking. 

There's a slicing sound above his head, and the Infected stops dead in his tracks. Blinking away the tears, Jongdae looks up, confused, just in time to see the Infected's head roll off his shoulders and fall to the ground with a loud thug. The rest of his body follows suit, his neck now spilling green foam on the concrete. Jongdae squints his eyes at the silhouette now towering over him against the light. 

“Need a hand?” the man says, putting down the tip of his bow on the concrete, next to Jongdae's face. The latter notices the thin, but sharp, blade, continuing the lower limb of the bow. It's covered with green pus. 

Jongdae looks up at the man, and immediately recognises the sun-induced freckles and the thin eyebrows. The man isn't smiling, like he was back in the warehouse, but he still wears a thick layer of indifference and nonchalance that clashes with their surroundings. He offers a hand to Jongdae, but Jongdae pushes it away. He hastily gets back up on his feet, and turns towards Yeri, whose body is now totally disappearing under a mountain of Infected. Jongdae spots the one he attacked with the arrow, the latter still sticking out of the top of his head. 

Just when Jongdae is about to dart off towards the morbid gathering, the man on his side grabs his arm to stop him. 

“She's dead,” he tells Jongdae, his voice low and sorry. “She's dead, and you're bleeding. We need to get out of here before they smell you, and right now she's the best distraction we have.”

Jongdae glares at him as he pulls away his arm. 

“Fuck off,” he snaps. “I didn't ask for your opinion.”

“Sure you didn't, but it won't stop me from sharing it.”

Jongdae frowns at the faint amusement spreading over the young man's face, anger burning in his veins. He turns to face him, and throws him a dirty look. 

“Do you think it's funny?” he hisses. The man raises an eyebrow at him. “I don't need any weapons to kill you, you know.”

The stranger eyes him for a short second, but Jongdae's threatening voice hardly seems to impress him. His eyes become softer though, and he slowly shakes his head. 

“I don't think the death of your friend is a laughing matter,” he apologies. “But we need to leave.”

Jongdae glances at the Infected now fighting each other to have a chance to reach Yeri's body, and his breath dies in the back of his throat. More Infected keep spilling out of the woods, their attention fortunately immediately drawn to the blood bath, but Bow Man's right. Sooner or later, one of them will glance around and see them. The cuts on Jongdae's cheek are bleeding again, and more blood is running down his forearm, dripping onto the ground when it reaches the bone of his wrist. Leaving now would be his only chance. 

He sniffles, wiping away the tears with the back of his hand, and looks at the stranger. 

“Okay,” he says. 

The man doesn't waste any second. He puts the bow on his shoulder, the long and tense string crossing his torso, and grabs Jongdae's hand with slender and bony fingers. They fit easily, and close around Jongdae's hand shamelessly, his leather mitten pressing against Jongdae's palm. The man's fingers suddenly tense when their owner starts running, forcing Jongdae to follow suit. His clothes, so close to his skin, follow each roll of muscles and Jongdae only realises how much taller the guy is when he has to speed up to follow his pace. He glances at the man's legs, their length emphasized by the high horse-riding boots he's wearing, and Jongdae grumbles, making even longer strides. 

The man drags him straight into the forest, but they penetrate it higher on the road, avoiding the now almost continuous flow of Infected rushing to Yeri's body. Jongdae pulls on his hand to make him slow down as he jumps over a few roots, and the man casts him a surprised glance over his shoulder before softening. He slows down, mimicking Jongdae's pace, but even like that, it doesn't take long for Jongdae to realise that the guy knows the forest by heart. He gracefully jumps over roots and even large branches that could reveal their presences, and doesn't hesitate once as he drags Jongdae deeper into the woods and zigzags through the trees. 

He finally stops abruptly in front of a thick tree, whose height has Jongdae gasping in surprise as he throws back his head to try and see its top. The man lets go of his hand, and draws a sling-shot from his belt, his other hand rummaging through a small and handmade purse hanging on his hips. Jongdae watches him, taken aback, as he pulls a rock out of it, places it inside the sling-shot, and aims at the thick branches over their heads. He glances at Jongdae, the shadow of a smile perched on his lips, and focuses on the branches above their heads again. Jongdae steps forwards, curiously looking up, but aside from the dense branches, he doesn't see anying remotely worth being shot at, especially when they're trying to escape dozens of Infected. 

The man finally shoots, and Jongdae tries to follow the rock as it flies up and up, but it soon disappears between the green leaves. He does hear the slight _ping_ though, as if it touched a piece of metal, but even more surprising is the long rope ladder falling from between the branches. Jongdae steps back, the ladder dangling just before him, astonished. 

“The tree's about forty meters high, but the ladder only goes up to twenty,” the man tells him as he grabs the ladder with a strong hand. He checks that the rungs aren't tangled, and hands the ladder to Jongdae. “Are you afraid of heights?”

Jongdae stares at the man before looking up at the branches above their heads. He's never been that sensitive to heights, but it's one thing to jump from roof to roof, and another to climb a rope ladder on twenty meters. He considers the rungs, made of very tight knots in the rope, and look back at the man. 

“No,” Jongdae finally says. “I'm not.”

He grabs the ladder and puts his foot on the first rung, internally wincing at the way it waves under his weight. The forest is plagued with Infected, and that's the only reason he's agreeing to this, that and the fact that he's pretty sure the man with the bow would have already killed him if it had been his plan in the first place. Jongdae doesn't really care where the ladder leads actually, or if the guy wants to kill him or not, he just wants to move, to _do_ , because he's pretty sure that he wouldn't be able to get back on his feet if he'd stopped now. He feels so numb, so distant from the inhuman screams echoing all around them, that even the ladder waving closer to the trunk with every rungs he puts his feet on leaves him quite indifferent. A sudden swerve of the ladder tells him that the boy beneath has started to climb as well, and Jongdae vaguely wonders if the rope can support both their weights. 

He finally reaches the lower branches, most of them larger than his own thighs. Leaves stroke his face as Jongdae follows the ladder through the foliage, and a sweet smell of sap fills his nose. It's a strange feeling, leaving the ground to rise towards the sky. Everything feels so peaceful there, even with the apocalypse still raging on through the forest under his feet. Light is going through the leaves, pleasantly warm because of the early hours, and Jongdae pauses when it lands on his face. He glances at the forest around him, at the shorter trees, the higher ones, and the broken fragment of the horizon line he catches through the foliage. He thinks about Soojung screaming his name, and Seulgi nodding at him, as if to say _thank you for everything you've done for us_ , and Yeri, Yeri running and then falling. 

“You okay?” Bow Man asks, a few rungs under him. 

Jongdae blinks away, and continues his climbing without bothering to answer. 

He finally reaches a wooden platform a few meters higher, fixed on the trunk and going all around it. It's not very large, probably built in a rush, but it makes a safe place. Jongdae guesses Bow Man was the one who built it, and from the look of it, it has held through thick and thin. Jongdae hauls himself on the boards, not daring to get back on his feet, despite how solid it feels under him. He shifts on his hands and knees and walks on all fours towards the trunk to sit against it. The boy pulls himself on the structure with way more grace than Jongdae did, using the strength in his arms to end up immediately crouched down, instead of on his hands and knees, just like Jongdae. 

They exchange a look, Jongdae absent and the young man scrutinizing for what feels like hours. The boy makes the fact that they're perched on a wooden platform twenty meters up a tree easier to swallow with his posture, and attire. Still crouched down, he has both his palm flat on the boards to help him keep his balance, and the bow still on his back paired up with his boots and brownish clothes makes him look like an elf. Even in that position, his long and slender body isn't easy to miss, just like the grace that is obvious even in the slightest twitch of his eyebrows. With the long and somehow shiny strand of pitched black hair falling over his forehead , the boy looks like he belongs up there. 

“My name's Sehun,” he finally says. 

His voice is deep, but kind of soft at the same time, and it makes Jongdae wonders about his age. He doesn't ask though, and silence draws out again. Bow Man-- _Sehun_ 's eyes slide over Jongdae's face, following the cuts on his cheek before falling to his forearm, where the Infected gripped him so hard he teared the skin apart. Sehun sizes Jongdae up, and finally gets back on his feet, obviously not disturbed by the deadly void behind him. He bends down to grab the upper rung of the rope ladder and pulls it all up, careful not to let it get tangled. Jongdae watches him wordlessly, still kind of dumbstruck by how unreal it all looks. He feels like he's somehow teleported into a fantasy book, but it's only when he catches the tiny metal ring stuck into the very last knot of the ladder that he realises that he's still in plain, ugly reality. Sehun puts the ring in a hook hammered on the underside of a branch. The hook's curve is partly broken, which means that to remove the iron ring and free the rope ladder, a single stone, hitting a specific point, would be enough. Jongdae remembers the rope dangling off the hole in the warehouse's roof. It's nothing magic or fantastical, Sehun is just very smart and creative. Jongdae wonders if he was one of those fanatics who had bunkers in their gardens, plenty of food and guide books on how to survive the apocalypse.

Sehun checks the hook, standing on his tiptoes at the edge of the platform, and finally turns towards Jongdae. He joins him in a few light leaps, and kneels next to him. Jongdae follows his every gesture, and throws him a wary glance, but Sehun doesn't seem to mind. Instead, he opens the larger leather bag fixed on his belt, and pulls out a bottle of honey, and a few tissues. Intrigued, Jongdae finds himself quitting the deathly glare play as curiosity takes over when Sehun presses the bottle above the tissues. Thick and golden coloured honey drips immediately, and when Sehun is satisfied with how much is now slowly spreading on the tissues, he closes the bottle, and pulls it back into his bag. 

He grabs the tissues, and shows them to Jongdae, his eyes scanning Jongdae's face. 

“It'll stop the bleeding,” he tells Jongdae. “Will you let me apply it?”

Jongdae narrows his eyes at the honey-covered tissues, than back at Sehun. He's never heard about honey helping with bleeding, but why not? After all, he _is_ bleeding, and putting both he and Sehun in jeopardy, so he knows he doesn't really have a choice, but it's Sehun's soft voice that takes him by surprise. The way Jongdae remembers his smile through the shelf back in the warehouse, or how Sehun managed to crash a car in pitched-black darkness with only two arrows, he wasn't really expecting someone that careful around people. The thought somehow bothers Jongdae, and he snatches the tissues out of Sehun's hand.

“I can do it myself, thank you,” he grumbles. 

He glances at the tissues, swallowing down his hesitation as he feels Sehun's black eyes on him, and raises the tissues to his face. It can't be worse than the lavender oil anyway, and he's had his fair share of the latter in the past few hours, so at this point, it shouldn't even matter. Still expecting quite an unpleasant sting, Jongdae presses the tissues against his cheeks as he scrunches up his nose. He feels the honey on his skin, sticky and thick, but the peak of pain he was expecting never comes. When he opens his eyes, surprised, he meets Sehun's gaze. The latter keeps his straight face, his eyebrows giving him a look of anger, but Jongdae he's pretty sure he catches a glance of mischief behind the dark irises. He glares at the young man, and pats his cheek with the honey-covered tissue, making sure not to let out the slightest hint over the throbbing pain burning in the cuts. 

Sehun watches him wordlessly as Jongdae covers the wounds on his cheek with a thick layer of honey. With every minute passing by and dragging them further into daylight, the heat is rising, and soon enough, the sensation of honey slowly dripping from Jongdae's jawline drives him crazy. The skin itches under it, and Jongdae can feel a few strands of hair caught in the sweet substance. He doesn't dare to pull them out though, and draws his attention to the cut on his arm instead. It has bled a lot, but Jongdae just has to tap with the tissues once to see that the wound isn't that deep. The Infected's fingers just dug right where the thicker vein was, and teared it apart with long and sharp nails. Jongdae cleans it thoroughly until it's just purplish-blue skin with a red dot. 

When he looks up, he meets Sehun's eyes as though they were waiting for him, and Jongdae isn't sure what to think of the faint smile perched on the young man's lips. 

“You can throw the tissues away,” Sehun tells him. 

“And that's it?” Jongdae asks. “Do you have some lavender oil?”

Sehun frowns. “Why would I?”

“It covers the smell of blood pretty well, when the wounds aren't too serious.”

Sehun snorts. 

“Don't worry about that, I've never met an Infected able to jump twenty meter high.”

Jongdae glares at Sehun's amused smile. 

“For now,” he grumbles. 

Sehun catches his whisper easily in the morning silence, but once again, he hardly seems affected by it. He even allows himself a short chuckle before taking the tissues from Jongdae's hand. He gets back on his feet, and walks to the edge of the platform to let go of them. They whirl around in the light breeze, following it lightly down, and down again, until they finally drop. 

Sehun kneels down, barely a few inches between him and the void, and starts rummaging through the leather bag on his belt again. Jongdae watches him, how at ease he looks perched twenty meters up above the ground, and how it somehow shows in his posture, or how graceful he is. Jongdae doesn't really know him, but he seriously doubts that someone that would choose to enter an abandonned warehouse with a rope just in case something would be waiting for him down there, could be that reckless and mocking of the risks. He understands that Sehun really feels safe on this platform, and it helps Jongdae breathe a little easier. 

“I used to call you Bow-Man in my head,” he tells Sehun. 

The latter looks over his shoulder, intrigued, but his face immediately breaks into an amused grin. 

“Really?” he chuckles. “That's not very original though. I would have gone with something like Robin Hood.”

“Everybody would have,” Jongdae retorts. “Bow-Man's the real originality here.”

Sehun slightly shakes his head, rolling his eyes, and turns over again. Jongdae watches the straight line of his back, and his large shoulders, eyes finally settling on Sehun's nape. The hair is cut short there (does he cut his own hair alone?), and the bare skin has obviously suffered from a few sunburns. It's brownish now, but the tan lines sometimes appearing along the hem of Sehun's large shirt when the latter slightly shifts are pretty revealing. Jongdae remembers his surprised at the sun-induced freckles on Sehun's nose, and he now understands how Sehun got them. He's not playing with the devil and wandering around in broad daylight, from the look of it, he probably lives up in the trees. 

Sehun has pulled out a pair of binoculars from his bag, and he is now taking a look through it, scanning the woods spread out at their feet. Jongdae guesses that he's trying to glance at the road, and it has him looking away. 

“So what now?” he asks. 

He shields his eyes with one of his palms, blinded by a particularly fierce ray of sunshine reaching him through the foliage. He has no other choice than to look back at Sehun as flowers made of light bloom in his field of vision. Sehun has just lowered the pair of binoculars, and his natural blank face leaves no room for whatever feelings that could have hinted Jongdae about what he saw on the main road. He really doesn't want to know. 

“We wait,” Sehun answers. “We can't go anywhere for now.”

Jongdae nods. He slightly shifts, wincing, as the trunk's irregularities start to be painful against his back. Sehun's right, they can't go anywhere while the sun is out, and considering that it just came out, they have several long hours ahead of them. Jongdae hasn't slept for two nights and one day, and he could use those hours, but sleeping couldn't be farther away from his mind. He folds his legs up against his chest, and puts his chin on his knees. Sehun may have saved him two times, Jongdae doesn't fully trust him. He's lost both his gun and machete in the fight, but Sehun still has his bow and a few other weapons, which doesn't really help to feel safe enough to fall asleep. Jongdae doesn't even feel tired anyway. 

“Hey,” Sehun calls him out, his voice soft. 

Jongdae looks up, and meets Sehun's dark eyes on him. The latter is still on his knees, but his butt is now resting against his heels. He's looking at Jongdae over his shoulder, both his hands spread out on his thighs. Jongdae raises a questioning eyebrow at him, and Sehun's eyes go even softer. 

“I'm sorry about your friends,” Sehun finally says. 

More than the sudden empathy he wasn't expecting from a stranger, it's the plural form that takes Jongdae by surprise. He stares at Sehun longer than he should, but Sehun doesn't take any offense, and he wordlessly turns around to go back at watching the woods. Jongdae feels his throat tightening, clenching around desperate sobs he tries hard to swallow down. Sehun was there in the warehouse, he probably knows Jongdae had Jongin with him, and the latter's absence doesn't need to be voiced out. What could have happened with how the world is working now other than Jongin being dead?

It wasn't meant to end like this, the world, Jongdeok, himself... Things weren't supposed to crash and burn like they did, Jongin should have been somewhere in Korea, running randomly into Yeri for the very first time, and they should have had all the time to fall in love, to get to know each other. It wasn't supposed to end in a puddle of blood and brain, with jaws clicking and fingers like claws all ready to tear skin and flesh apart. 

Jongdae bites his knee to muffle the sobs he's so desperate to let out. He feels tears prickling his eyelids, and Sehun's silhouette, all long and straight lines, finally turns fuzzy, blurred on the edges, as though Jongdae was watching him from beneath the water. He might be after all, because he really feels like he's drowning. 

Sehun doesn't turn around again.


	3. Chapter 3

Sehun finally gets back up on his feet several hours later, when the night has already fallen upon them. He glances at the sky above their heads, pieces of puzzles lighting the night through the foliage, and narrows his eyes at the ground, so far under them. Jongdae wordlessly watches him look right and left from where he's still sitting, huddled against the trunk. The long hours have made his body numb to the bark digging through his shirt, or the stillness-induced cramps, but he still hasn't slept. His eyelids feel heavy on his eyes, swollen, but it's like his mind can't shut up. 

Sehun mumbles something that sounds like _so many Infected_ in an annoyed, more than worried, voice, and Jongdae can't help but glance at the darkness afar. His mind flashes Seulgi and Soojung running into the forest, and he bites his lips. They probably ran along the border of the forest without going deeper into the woods, and that might have worked, but Sehun's right. There really is a lot of Infected, and many of them kept wandering through the trees after the sun had disappeared behind the horizon line. None of them has stopped under their tree though, and Jongdae guesses that they're all still too high on the overwhelming smell of Yeri's blood to notice his for now, but will it last?

Sehun gets back on his feet. He mindlessly rubs his knees before stretching his arm to catch the ladder. 

“We need to go now,” he tells Jongdae in a whisper-like voice. “I think they all went to sleep, but it's past midnight, and we have a two hour long walk ahead of us.”

Jongdae nods, shifting on his feet. He winces as his leg muscles stretch. They feel dried, and like they've shrinked in the long hours of immobility, and Jongdae hears his kneecaps creak. He's not sure he really wants to follow Sehun, but his mind goes blank when he tries to think of something else to do. He could go his own way, and that's honestly the only thing he really feels like doing, but without any weapons on him while he's in the middle of an Infected-plagued forest, it would be suicidal. Common sense would want him to follow Sehun, wherever he wants to go. Jongdae is too tired anyway to start an intense session of pondering. 

Sehun leans above the pitched-black void, and finally lets go of the ladder. It falls down smoothly, sliding into the spaces between the branches like it was probably planned, and they both hear the slight thud when the very last rung hits the ground. 

“How will you put it back in the hook?” Jongdae asks. 

Sehun shrugs. 

“I won't. I usually go from one tree to the other, so I don't need to take the ladder to go down, but I hardly think it will be a problem. I don't think Infected are keen on climbing rope ladders.”

Jongdae thinks about the alpha going on the roof, and he struggles to refrain a shudder. 

“You'd be surprised,” he mumbles.

In the bright full moon's light, Jongdae easily catches the look Sehun throws at him over his shoulder. 

“I'll come back tomorrow to put it back, don't worry. Even if one of them made it until the platform though, what would they do up there? It's an outpost for emergency situations, it doesn't lead anywhere.”

Jongdae stares at Sehun, curiosity creeping on him through the thick layer of exhaustion his mind is wearing. 

“Do you _really_ jump from one tree to another?” he spits out, intrigued. 

That's how Sehun made it sound, and now he's even rambling about outposts? How organized is he? Jongdae is willing to believe he lives up in the trees, willing to believe in the sunburns and the sun-induced freckles, but to _that_ extent? The truth, actually, is that it wouldn't even surprise him that much. He's seen the way Sehun walks, runs, and he can totally picture him as a tightrope walker on the thinnest branches, but it's still completely crazy. 

Sehun chuckles. “Yeah, I used to go gymnastics when I was younger. I never thought it'd come in handy.” 

Jongdae can't help but feel impressed. He glances at the branches all over them, and feels like throwing up just at the mere idea of leaving the solid floor of the platform for them. He looks back at Sehun, wide-eyed. 

“You were right, maybe Robin Hood suits you better.”

Sehun snorts, his face breaking into an amused grin. He draws back his attention to the rope ladder, and kneels down at the border of the platform, falling back into the seriousness expected for what they're about to do. 

“I'm gonna slide down,” he whispers to Jongdae. “And you'll go next, okay? We're lucky the moon is full, its light should be enough, but be careful. It's actually trickier to go down than up.”

Jongdae glances at the rope ladder slowly fading away in the pale blue light coming from the sky. 

“How reassuring,” he mumbles. 

Sehun doesn't even try to hide the slightly taunting amusement taking over his face. He sits down on the edge of the platform, long legs dangling in the void, and locks his ankles around the ladder. He uses his legs to pull the ladder up, so that he can grab it, and when he does, he twists it until it turns into a very thick rope, thanks to the absence of wooden rungs. When he's satisfied with the results, Sehun twists the rope around his left leg, makes it go above his left foot, and finally wedges it under his right sole. He then checks his leather mittens, and finally looks at Jongdae. 

“See you down there,” he brags, and just like that, he lets himself falls off the edge. 

Jongdae gasps. He leans down and catches Sehun sliding down the rope, one hand secured around it, and the intricate twisting of the rope around his leg helping his descent to go smoothly. Jongdae winces, shifting on his hands and knees, and following Sehun until the latter turns greyish, moonlight catching in his hair locks. A slight thud tells Jongdae Sehun landed safe and sound on the solid ground, and he slowly shakes his head. He needs to get over how impressed he feels, because the bragging smirk Sehun threw at him before falling was annoying, and Jongdae doesn't want him to realise how _much_ Sehun could really brag with him. 

Sehun shakes the rope until it unfolds and turns back to being a ladder, and Jongdae sighs. Time to try and not break his neck. 

Sehun was right. The descent is much scarier than the ascension, and he feels like it takes him ages to reach the firm and solid ground. The rungs keep shying away from his feet, and the ladder swings so much that Jongdae's knuckles graze the trunk a few times. When he reaches the last rungs, Sehun reaches out to help him stabilize the ladder by grabbing Jongdae's belt, but Jongdae immediately pulls away. He loses his balance and dragged down by gravity, Jongdae has no other choice than to jump off the ladder if he doesn't want to fall. He lands with a thud, and can't help the relieved sigh even though he almost faceplants in the roots. 

Sehun is watching him with a raised eyebrow, and Jongdae tries his best to ignore him. 

“Okay,” Sehun finally breathes out, not without an eye roll before. “Follow me, and keep quiet.”

Jongdae gives him a short nod to show he got it, and Sehun mimicks his gesture with a tiny smile. He takes his bow and keeps it in his hand, just in case, and Jongdae really misses his machete. Feeling weaponless and naked, he steps closer to Sehun, who is his only shield against the Infected for now. Sehun glances at him, and motions him towards the darkest part of the forest with a gesture of the head. He sets off on a sustained pace, and Jongdae follows suit. He is very intent on keeping Sehun in sight, because the latter knows the forest by heart, and even with the full moon high above them, Jongdae wouldn't trust his own senses to zigzag between the trees alone. He knows for sure Infected usually settle their nests in dark places, and forests and cellars are their favorite locations. The usual safe feeling he has when the sun disappears behind the horizon line is totally absent tonight, or just barely hinted by the silhouette of Sehun's bow in the latter's hand, and Jongdae isn't going to give up on that. 

The lurking fear manages to keep his exhaustion at bay, so much that Jongdae is able to hold Sehun's pace, even though the latter doesn't slow down, even when they reach a light, but very long, uphill slope. Fire is licking at Jongdae's calves, burning the walls of his lungs, but he keeps up with Sehun's long strides, mimicking his light jumps or tilts of the head to avoid treacherous roots and falling branches. 

A few times during their running, Sehun reaches behind his back to grab his hand and draw Jongdae's attention to something he points with his index finger. Jongdae squints his eyes, but thanks to the moonlight, the few platforms perched up the trees stand out enough for Jongdae to catch them. Sehun wasn't kidding when he talked about outposts, or the fact that he lived in the forest. If Infected were to run after them right now, all those plateforms would be their best chance. 

Just when Jongdae is really starting to struggle to fill his lungs with air, Sehun finally slows down, coming to an halt. Jongdae stops as well, immediately bending down to put his hands on his knees and try to catch his breath. He feels dizzy, and pins and needles are taking over his calves, and going up his thighs. Shaking, he straightens up, and wipes away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. Perspiration and honey mixed liquid has run down his neck, and then under the collar of his shirt, prickling his skin, and burning. Sehun glances at him, and Jongdae is very pleased to notice that the effort has taken a toll on him as well. His cheeks are flushed, his breathing short and erratic, and the long black bangs are pushed back, sticking out on his head because of the sweat. 

“Welcome home,” Sehun breathes out. 

Jongdae frowns, confused. Sehun smiles at him and points towards the sky. Looking up, Jongdae can't help but gasp, taken aback. Right there, up a grove of trees standing closer to the others than the surrounding trees, a tree house is proudly perched on the branches.

“You've got to be kidding me...” he whispers, mouth ajar. 

Sehun chuckles. He puts back his bow on his back, adjusting the string on his chest as he walks closer to the tree house. Jongdae follows him, incapable of shutting down his mouth, or even blinking. 

It's not the five star tree house one can see in magazines or TV shows, but it still looks pretty amazing. Jongdae's eyes slide over the base of the house, and he quickly realises that it has been built over the same plateforms, although larger, than the one he spent the day on. Whoever did this built the platforms first, and then raised the walls all around it to finally put a flat roof on top of every circular room created. Some of them are linked to the others by a few stairs made of plain wood boards screwed on thick branches, but Jongdae also catches another rope ladder, with wooden rungs this time, horizontally streched out between two platforms, with only two ropes to serve as handrails. In total, Jongdae counts three circular houses and a larger one made of three merged platforms. 

“Did you build this on your own?” Jongdae marvels. 

Sehun furiously shakes his head. 

“Chanyeol did,” he says. “He drew the plans, and Baekhyun and I helped. He was a carpenter before, so he knew what he was doing pretty well.”

Jondgae stares. 

“Chanyeol and Baekhyun?”

“They're probably still food hunting, but they'll be back sooner or later,” Sehun nods. He pauses, watching Jongdae as the latter throws a wary glance around him. “They won't hurt you, I promise.”

Sehun's softer tone takes Jongdae by surprise, and he stares back with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Your promise means nothing,” he retorts, defying. “I don't know you.”

“I saved your life two times though,” Sehun says, smirking. “I think that trusting me is the only viable option you have right now.”

It's a game, Jongdae realises. Sehun is purposely provoking him, for whatever reasons (although Jongdae would bet that it's just because it entertains him), and then enjoying Jondgae's annoyance very much. He still has a great deal of difficulty in figuring Sehun out, and he doesn't like it at all. He's always been good at reading people, and it has been his main weapon for the past few months, but he can't seem to see through Sehun's little games. Sehun can be snarky, biting and infuriatingly bratty, but at the same time, he _did_ save Jongdae's life. He also let Jongdae his privacy when the latter started to cry earlier, and he showed a little bit of worry and sorry for him a few times already. Whatever things Sehun has in mind with his provocations though, Jongdae isn't going to follow. He's really not in the mood for witty exchanges. 

“I don't like you,” he says. 

Sehun chuckles, not the slightest offended. He skirts around one of largest trees that serve as a support for the house, and pulls out a really long stick -which is actually more a branch- from behind the trunk. Jongdae watches him warily as Sehun walks back to the tree house and situates himself under the largest room. He raises the stick above his head, his two hands curled around to support the weight, and poke at a stone barely sticking out from what could be a tiny patio. The stone rolls, falls from the plateform and drags a ladder in its fall. This one has wooden rungs this time, but it's mostly the difference of height that reassures Jongdae. As if reading his thoughts, Sehun glances at him. 

“It's only six meters high,” he tells him. He pushes the stone with the tip of his shoe, and the ladder, attached to it, completely unfolds. 

“You can climb,” he adds, smiling to Jongdae. He raises the stick still in his hand. “I'm gonna put this back behind the tree.”

Jongdae nods. He glances at the tree house above his head as he walks to the ladder, and can't deny that he feels pretty excited to visit it. He grabs the first rung, and the ladder sways when he puts his first foot on it, but compared to the twenty meters descent from earlier, it's nothing. Jongdae glances at Sehun over his shoulder, the later having just disappeared behind the tree, and starts climbing up the ladder. He reaches the top of it in no time, and he hauls himself on the wooden boards. They seem as solid and firm under his feet as the plateform's did too. It's only the second time Jongdae climbs up in the trees, but he already feels an underlying sense of safety filling his chest. 

Sehun finally joins him on the tiny patio, and just like before, he hauls his body easily and gracefully on the wooden boards. Landing in a crouched dow position, he doesn't straighten right away, instead grabbing the ladder and pulling it up. Jongdae kneels next to him to help him, and together it takes them barely a minute to drag the last rung up on the patio. Sehun flashes him a small thankful smile before he makes sure that the stone is well situated, just at the border of the patio. 

“Home sweet home,” he says, straightening up. Jongdae mimics him, looking around him. 

Now that he's up there, he can see how impressing the whole structure is. It must have required a lot of hard work and heavy precautions, with the forest all around them, and the lack of equipment, but even like that, it's honestly amazing. The tiny patio surrounds the larger house, and leads them a door that Sehun promptly opens. It's not a perfect door, there's a space on the top of it, but it's still a door, and Jongdae spends a few seconds marveling at the doorknob, which is actually a pine cone. 

Sehun looks over his shoulder, and smiles upon seeing what keeps Jongdae behind. Feeling his eyes on him, Jongdae looks up, flabbergasted.

“This is completely crazy,” he mumbles. 

His astonishment seems to be to Sehun's liking, whose face literally lights up as his eyes narrows to slints and his lips curl up. 

“Come inside,” he tells him, steping aside so Jongdae can enter the room. 

It's not much, but considering that the room is perched up a tree -or actually _three_ trees- it looks a lot to Jongdae. There isn't any furniture, only carpets and blankets scattered all over the floor, but following the walls are long wooden trunks. They're very plain, only four boards nailed together, but the top shuts well, and Jongdae can only guess it's where Sehun and his friends put their food or things like that. He wonders if there are any weapons here, but quickly dismisses the thought. Something tells him that stealing Sehun will be harder than stealing Luhan, and he doesn't want to take any risk now. 

Sehun walks further into the room, straight to one of the trunks, and he opens it. He pulls out what looks like an emergency kit out of it, and comes back towards Jongdae. 

“This is the main room,” Sehun says. “Now we're going into my room.”

“You have a _room_?” Jongdae repeats. 

Sehun chuckles, leading Jongdae back on the patio. He closes the door behind them. 

“This is the apocalypse luxury hotel,” he snickers. 

Jongdae snorts. Flashing him another smile, Sehun takes him by the hand and leads him on the other side of the house, at the end of the patio. It doesn't actually stops, it just turns into stairs as it reaches the trunk, wooden boards now nailed to the branches. Sehun lets go of his hand, and jumps on the first one without any hint of hesitation, the emergency kit still under his arm. He easily reaches the third, and last, stair with his long legs, jumping over the second one, and finally stops on the second patio, this one surrounding a smaller platform. Jongdae doesn't even glance at the void beneath the stairs as he follows suit, too intrigued to be afraid. He slides his palm against the trunk, fingers mindlessly following the irregularities until he can reach the second patio's guardrail. 

He immediately notices that, on top of being smaller, this house is also less high, so much that Sehun can only walk through the door bent down. Even Jongdae, yet smaller than Sehun, has to shift on his knees to enter the room. He still follows Sehun further into the room though, not without glancing at the doorknob beforehand. (It's a bundle of sticks.) 

Jongdae understands why the roof is that low when he takes his first look around the room. It's actually more like a huge bed than a room, and its whole purpose resides here. There are even more blankets spread all over the floor than in the main room, and even some pillows or sleeping bags opened wide. Three, or maybe even four men, could sleep comfortably inside this house, without even hurting their backs with how thick and plush the layers of blankets feel under Jongdae's hand. He shifts to his hands and knees to moves to the center of the room, his whole body urging him to chose a pillow and finally go to sleep. 

Sehun, also on his hands and knees, closes the door behind him, and darkness engulfs the room. It's only then that Jongdae realises that, contrary to the main room, there are no windows on those walls, no holes protected by makeshift shudders. Sehun scoots closer, and something clicks on Jongdae's left. Not even a second after, a cascade of light pours down from a flashlight fixed to the ceiling. Sehun's eyes are glued to Jongdae's face, looking even darker than they really are, and somehow, Sehun's gaze manages to make Jongdae uneasy. 

“You look like shit,” Sehun finally says. 

The flashlight is still swaying between them, cone of light going right and left and right and left. 

“I haven't slept in like forty hours,” Jongdae retorts. 

Sehun slightly nods. “That's what I thought.” He shows Jongdae the emergency kit he's still holding. “I'll just bandage your cuts, and then I'll let you sleep.”

Jongdae tenses, and even in the dim light, Sehun doesn't miss it. Or maybe he was expecting it, and quite frankly, it wouldn't even surprise Jongdae. Sehun lowers the emergency kit, dark eyes sliding over Jongdae's face with a barely hidden amusement. 

“If I wanted to kill you, waiting for you to be asleep would have been pretty useless,” Sehun teases him. “With how tired you are, I'd win easily. _And_ you don't have any weapons.”

“Is that supposed to make me trust you?” Jongdae retorts. 

“No. But you should realise that me proposing my help is just me proposing my help. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Jongdae eyes Sehun for the longest time, and Sehun holds his gaze easily, not even the slightest disturbed by it. The flashlight's swaying has toned down to a slow rocking that make the shadows run from Sehun's right cheek to his left one. Jongdae likes that Sehun didn't immediately ask him to trust him, because that would have been the top reason why Jongdae should _not_ trust him. Jongdae weighs up the pros and cons. Sehun did save his life, and he even took him into his home, which is really well protected and hidden. Until then, Sehun has proven to be a pretty cautious guy, and Jongdae can't imagine him taking the risk to take someone in his shelter, even just to kill him. 

As if he could follow Jongdae's reasonning, Sehun's smile slowly spreads wider. Jongdae rolls his eyes, but holds his wounded arm out anyway. Sehun doesn't even try to hide the victorious grin now taking over his lips as he opens the emergency kit. 

“I guess I shouldn't wait for a thank you?” he asks innocently. 

Jongdae snorts. “Yeah, you're guessing right.”

Sehun chuckles, but he doesn't say anything. He grabs Jongdae's wrist, and leans down to take a better look at the bruise spreading on his forearm. There's a hole in the middle of the bruise, just the size of a fingertip, but it's still deep and red. Sehun's honey has worked pretty well though, because it's not bleeding anymore, it's just raw skin and hematoma spreading on pale skin. It's not that painful, actually less painful than the throbbing pain regularly flashing through Jongdae's cheek, but Jongdae can't help a shudder when he glances down at his arm. It was so easy for the Infected to tear his skin apart, like it was nothing more than a sheet of paper. 

Sehun glances at him before straightening. He rummages through the emergency kit and pulls out a few compresses, a roll of bandaids and, of course, another bottle of honey. With how fast and precise he is, Jongdae can only guess that he had to deal with minor injuries before, and it somehow reassures him about the honey's efficacy. He'd give everything for a few drops of lavender oil though, but Yeri kept the bottles in her bag, and her bag is lying on the concrete, somewhere next to her body. 

Sehun glances at him while he soaks a compress with honey. 

“You okay?”

Jongdae nods, sharply, and Sehun gets the hint. He looks away and puts the compress on Jongdae's forearm, making sure it's sticking to his skin by pressing softly his palm against it. 

“Are you really not going to put anything against the smell of blood?” Jongdae asks. “Because we're pretty far from Yeri's body right now, and they're going to smell me and--”

“Relax,” Sehun cuts him. He throws Jongdae a heavy look, his eyes dark despite the light flooding his face. “Lavender oil isn't the only thing that blocks the smell of blood,” Sehun continues. “Let me do my job, would you?”

Jongdae glares at Sehun, who dismisses it with a slight eyeroll. He wraps Jongdae's forearm with gauze, and adds a few bandaids to make sure it doesn't move. He looks up to Jongdae—to Jongdae's cheek, actually, and scoots closer, so closer that his knees bump into Jongdae's. His invasion into Jongdae's personal space comes with a wave of woody smells. Sehun's hair smells like sap, and there's something about the scent stagnating along the straight column of his neck that reminds Jongdae of the leaves he had to push away when he went down the rope ladder earlier. Under the harsh light coming from the flashlight, the skin on Sehun's nose looks even more burnt, but the freckles somehow merges pretty well with the paler skin spreading on his cheekbones. Jongdae had always though it was the same apocalypse for all the Immunes, but Sehun really doesn't look like he lived the same thing. Jongdae has to force himself to look away before he makes the mistake to admit to himself how fascinated he actually feels. 

Sehun taps a compress soaked with water on Jongdae's cheek, cleaning the cuts as softly as he can, but it still hurts like a bitch. Jongdae hisses when a tiny bit of cotton gets stuck in the deeper cut, and Sehun winces with him.

“Sorry,” he says, grimacing. “Sorry.” 

After the cleaning part, things are more or less the same than for Jongdae's arm, except that Sehun has to do with only the compresses, since he can't really bandage Jongdae's face. He tapes two compresses on his cheeks after making sure that the bandaids wouldn't be on the cuts, and adds a third one on his neck, where the deeper cut ends. Jongdae can feel the honey running down his skin under the compresses, but after the water penetrating the cuts, it feels like a shield protecting him from pain. He allows himself a light sigh that, of course, Sehun doesn't miss. He smirks at Jongdae before rummaging through the leather bag on his belt again. A few seconds later, he pulls out a tiny circle shaped box, with a logo on it that Jongdae recognizes as a cosmetics brand. 

Obviously pleased with all the suspense he's creating, Sehun finally opens the box with a theatrical gesture. 

“Tada,” he smiles. “Cryptomeria sap.” 

Jongdae glances at the thin layer of brownish and very thick substance in the bottom of the box. It catches the light in a very velvety sparkle that make the few impurities stand out. Jongdae raises an eyebrow at Sehun. 

“Don't ask me why it works,” Sehun says. “But it does.”

“ _Cryptomeria_?” Jondgae repeats. 

Sehun nods. “We were up one of them earlier.”

“How the fuck do you know that?”

Sehun chuckles, plunging his infex and middle fingers into the sap. “I used to devour every magazines and books I could get hold of, and I have a pretty good memory.”

Jongdae snorts, and Sehun's smile only grows wider. He puts a little bit of sap in Jongdae's neck, and in the inside of his wrists, and puts the box back into his bag after wiping his fingers against his pants. 

“You're as good as new now,” Sehun says. He pauses, and adds in a teasing voice. “But really, don't say thank you.”

“Great, because I won't,” Jongdae grumbles. 

Sehun lets out a drawn-out sigh that clashes with the amusement spread all over his face. He shifts back on his knees, finally leaving Jongdae's personal space. Pulling back everything into the emergency kit, he motions towards the pillows with a slight tilt of the head. 

“You should go to sleep now,” he says. “Don't worry, you're safe up there.”

Jongdae shrugs. Sehun looks away, a tiny smile perched on his lips as he waddles to the door, still on his knees. Even like that, his head is dangerously close to the ceiling, but Sehun has the assurance of someone who is used to this setting, and the few millimeters between his head and the ceiling are totally safe for him. He opens the door with his palm and slides outside. Jongdae watches him get back on his feet, and soon enough, Sehun is just a pair of long and slender legs through the square of the tiny door. Until, at least, Sehun bends down to look at him one last time. 

“Don't waste the battery,” he says, pointing at the flashlight. 

Jongdae stares at him as he raises a hand, palming around to find the flashlight. Sehun's smirk only grows wider while Jongdae's fingers keep searching the void next to him. Letting out a low grumble, he finally turns around, and turns off the flashlight. 

“Goodnight,” Sehun says.

“Hey!” Jondgae calls him out just before Sehun closes the door. The latter throws him a questioning look, and Jongdae immediately regrets his outburst. 

“My name's Jongdae,” he says. 

Sehun smiles. “Then, goodnight Jongdae.”

The following second, the door is closed. 

Jongdae is left in utter darkness with Sehun's footsteps slowly fading into the silence of the forest. He raises his hand to touch the compresses on his face, and sighs. He searches all around him, desperate for a pillow, his whole body going more and more tired with every second passing by and dragging him closer to a few hours of sleep. He shouldn't sleep, honestly, he shouldn't even consider it, but he's too tired to doubt Sehun, and make plan to save his life. He just wants a pillow under his head, it's really all that matters, but those fucking pillows are nowhere to be found. He's pretty sure he saw them on his left, but he's just reached the wall, and there's nothing there, aside from more blankets. 

_It's okay_ , Jongdae mentally tries to calm himself. _I'll just go back to the flashlight, turn it on and take a fucking pillow._ But as he walks on all fours back to the center of the room, his palm sliding against the ceiling, Jongdae quickly realises that the flashlight is also nowhere to be found. He stops dead in his tracks, and narrows his eyes at the darkness all around. He's not even sure where the door is, and just the mere idea of walking along the walls to find it manages to suck dry his last forces.

Jongdae falls on his side, his fall muffled by the thick blanket covering the floor, and he curls up into a ball. He puts an arm under his neck as an improvised pillow, and brings his other hand next to his face, so that he can feel the sap whenever he breathes in. Tiredness finally catches up with him, closing its claws around him, and Jongdae breaks into tiny pieces that have him sobbing quietly against his palm, his eyes shut closed, because the darkness of his eyelids is actually more comforting than the darkness playing with his senses. He barely feels himself fall into slumber, but the last coherent thought he has is about Soojung. He wonders if she's stopped screaming his name.

 

 

Darkness is still there when Jongdae opens his eyes, and it takes him a few moments to remember where he is, and why there is absolutely no light around him. The room's walls feel so thick around him, blocking everything that comes from the world, and Jongdae basks in the feeling. He has absolutely no idea if the sun is out or not, and it gives him a more than welcome feeling of vengeance over the world. He raises his hand and checks the compresses on his face and neck, fingers sliding over them. The pain running along the cuts on his cheek is now distant, asleep, replaced by a strong smell of honey. That, plus the fact that Jongdae feels rested for the first time in a year makes him feel like he's somehow landed in a parallel universe where things, maybe, aren't that bad. 

It's just wishful thinking, of course, but Jongdae keeps lying in the dark, just a few more minutes. He refuses to admit it, but he's kind of relieved that Sehun didn't try to kill him in his sleep. Not really because, well, he is still alive, but because it gives him more reasons to work towards trusting Sehun. His thoughts then graze the main room and the wooden trunks as Jongdae wonders where Sehun keeps his weapons, and if, maybe, he'd manage to snatch one. Trust is a beautiful notion, but in this very ugly world, it has never saved anyone. He's lost both his machete and his gun, and even though he still has his bag, Jongdae feels more naked than ever. He could wait until Sehun leaves the tree house, because he surely does, doesn't he? Jongdae internally snorts. He knows for sure that fooling Sehun won't be that easy. 

The darkness all around him makes the slightest sound echo in Jongdae's head like thunder, and that's how he catches the faint stream of voices. Sitting up with a startle, Jongdae suddenly remembers about Sehun's friends, and the faint feeling of safety he was starting to have promptly disappears. Eyes open wide to try and grab a bit of light, just enough to take him to the door, Jongdae palms in the dark, fingers ruffling the blankets on the floor. He needs to get out of here because he's too much of an easy prey in the room, with nowhere to hide, and the element of surprise playing against him. He grumbles as his knee catches in a blanket and he almost faceplants. He stretches out his arms in the hope that the walls aren't too far. His fingers indeed brush against the wood, and Jongdae muffles a cry of victory as he hurries along the walls, brushing the surface in a hurry until-- _yes_. 

Jongdae grabs the doorknob and throws his weight forward. The door easily gives way to his body, and carried away by his run-up, Jongdae loses his balance and falls forward, the upper half of his body outside, and the lower half still tangled in the blankets. He winces as bright light pours down on him, blinding him and attacking him with a sudden rush of fear. Blinking away the white spots invading his vision, he grumbles and tries to kick the blankets away. A short chuckle stops him dead in his tracks. 

Jongdae freezes, and looks up. Sehun's face, flanked by two others that Jongdae doesn't know. Their bodies are barely engaged in the stairs that lead to the patio Jongdae is currently spread on, so their faces are only a few inches above him. 

Sehun gives him an amused look, a smirk perched on his lips. 

“Jongdae, this is Baekhyun and Chanyeol,” he says, an underlying laughter ringing in his intonations.

“Nice to meet you,” the guy that Sehun has just pointed as Baekhyun grins at him.

Jongdae grumbles, and hides his face against the wooden boards.

 

 

Jongdae squirms, uneasy because of Sehun's friends' eyes heavy on him. After finding him spread on the patio in front of Sehun's room, the latter had helped him on his feet (and out of the blankets) and dragged him downstairs, in the main room. For the past five minutes, Sehun has been applying new bandages, soaked with honey, on his cuts, and both his friends have been watching Jongdae wordlessly. Jongdae caught Sehun glancing at him a few times already, and each times was more amused than the last. Jongdae is very intent on not letting his friends think they're impressing him though, so he stares back, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes defying. 

The first one of the two to react is Chanyeol. He's the carpenter one, Jongdae remembers, and it somehow shows. Jongdae thinks he might be taller than Sehun. Just like the latter, his legs are never-ending but slightly bowed when Sehun's are all long and straight lines. He has strong arms standing out under the thin fabric of his shirt, and calloused hands that Jongdae can picture working wood easily. He glances at his friend -Baekhyun- who glances back, both their faces blank and very hard to read. 

“Sehun said you're not going to hurt us,” Chanyeol says, eye scanning Jongdae. 

Jongdae looks at Sehun, who is putting a new compress on his arm. Sensing his gaze, he looks up at Jongdae, and flashes him a smug smile. 

“Yep, that's what I said.”

Jongdae glares at him. He turns towards Chanyeol and Baekhyun. 

“He only said that because he knows I'm weaponless.”

“That's what _I_ said,” Baekhyun snorts.

Chanyeol's face breaks into a grin, but Baekhyun remains a little cautious, his eyes never leaving Jongdae's face despite the faint smile tugging at his lips and obviously aimed at Chanyeol. He's smaller, easily the smallest of the three, but he's jut around Jongdae's height. Even like that, Jongdae wouldn't take him for an easy target anyway. Baekhyun's silhouette is slender, long, and more grace than muscles, but it radiates the same level, if not more, of danger than Sehun and Chanyeol's bodies. Jongdae feels very outnumbered, and he hates it. 

“Chanyeol and Baekhyun don't really like people,” Sehun butts in with a crooked smile. “Neither do I actually. But I told them you wouldn't do anything against them, because you owe me.”

“I never asked you anything,” Jongdae snaps back. “You chose to help me.”

Sehun nods, struggling to restrain another smile as he makes sure the bandaids is correctly sticking to Jongdae's skin. 

“I thought you looked like a total ray of sunshine, and I wanted more happiness and brightness in my life,” he teases. “I can't even word how grateful I am that you are here.”

Jongdae snorts, but it only makes Sehun's smile grow widder. 

“As you can see,” he tells his friends. “Our dear Jongdae isn't really keen on saying thank you, but I can assure you, he doesn't bite.”

“Don't tempt me,” Jongdae retorts through gritted teeth. 

Sehun chuckles, waving his fingers in front of Jongdae's mouth who glares at him as hard as he can. 

“Okay...” Baekhyun hesitates, his eyes going back and forth between Jongdae and Sehun. He finally stops on the latter. “Are you sure he won't try to kill us?”

Sehun nods. “Positive.”

Jongdae doesn't like Sehun's assurance, and how it makes him sound like he thinks Jongdae is a harmless pet, but at the same time, he can't really argue with him, because it would sound like he _really_ wants to kill Sehun and his friends. Which is definitely not true. He's killed before, of course he has, but it was mostly to protect himself and survive. He'd be really crazy to even think about taking down the odd trio, without any weapons, and on their own grounds.

“Okay,” Baekhyun repeats. “But he's under your responsibility. Keep a close eye on him.”

Sehun nods, and Jongdae glares at Baekhyun, for good measure. 

“I'm not his pet,” he mumbles, and to his surprise, it makes Baekhyun laugh. 

“I know you're not,” he smiles, but in a nice way, in a warm way. He's not mocking him, or looking down on him, he's genuinely amused at how revolted Jongdae looks. “You know, Chanyeol and I were there on the roof when you got attacked in the warehouse, and we never thought you'd survive. But then Sehun tells us he saw you riding a bike with a bunch of assholes on your ass. And finally, you survive to an encounter with a gang, and another Infected attack. Trust me Jongdae, I know you're no pet.”

With how Baehyun worded it, it does sound impressive, but Jongdae is hardly impressed. He notices that Chanyeol, Baekhyun and Sehun aren't as well. It's hard to be admirative of such things when those are the only things left to do to survive. Hell, Sehun and his friends built a _tree house_. The rules have changed, and everything has come down to people who survive because they do everything it takes, and people who don't. All in all, Baekhyun's little speech only tells him that the three of them are aware that Jongdae isn't harmless, so trying the trick of the submissive poor boy won't work with them. Actually, he's pretty sure nothing will. 

Jongdae slightly deflates with a small sigh. Despite the fact that he feels very unprotected with those people that he doesn't know, staying with them for now still is his best option. 

“If I'm good, will I have my own room too?” he asks. 

Sehun, Baekhyun and Chanyeol all chuckle, and Jongdae feels the tension in the air around them die out a little. He's not sure how long he'll have to stay with them, but he knows they will all be wary with each other for a while. Since his usual ways will not work with Sehun and his friends, Jongdae might as well do everything he can to make the cohabitation less dangerous, especially for him. 

“Anyway,” Chanyeol says. “We had a successful raid, so yay, food!” 

He grabs the backpack waiting next to the trunk he and Baekhyun are sitting on, and that Jongdae didn't notice before because of how busy he was glaring back at Sehun's friends. The bag does look bursting at the seams, and Jongdae's mouth waters at what might be inside. Last time he ate something was before he and Soojung got up on the roof, and after that, things went way too fast for him to even spare a thought to his empty stomach. He briefly wonders if Soojung and the others ate, if they made it out of the forest alive, but he quickly dismisses the thought. Worrying about that won't do him any good, and it's not like he can do anything for them now, anyway. 

Chanyeol rummages through the bag, and pulls out four cups of ramen, that he throws one after the other to his friends. Jongdae catches the last one thrown his way and tries not to lick his lips at the idea of eating a whole cup of ramen. Baekhyun pulls out two bottles of water from the bag and waves them, his eye smile lighting up his face. 

“Today will be cold ramen!” He throws a bottle at Sehun who catches it with a single hand, his other secured around his cup of ramen. “Since we still haven't found another gas bottle, we'll save what's left of ours.”

Sehun shrugs. “Cold ramen is fine by me.”

He turns towards Jongdae, and the latter raises a questioning eyebrow at him, to which Sehun answers with an amused smile. It takes Jongdae a few more seconds to realise that Sehun is wordlessly asking him if he's okay with eating cold ramen, instead of hot. Thrown aback, Jongdae merely shrugs. 

“It's still ramen,” he answers. 

Sehun flashes him another smile before finally putting away the emergency kit still on his knees, and getting back up on his feet. He grabs Jongdae's wrist while he does and pulls him up as well. Jongdae pulls away as soon as he's back up on his feet, glaring at the other man. Unsurprisingly, Sehun doesn't seem to mind, or to actually care. 

“Jongdae and I will be eating outside.” He glances at Jongdae. “Is that okay for you?”

“The sun is out,” Jongdae retorts, frozen on the spot. 

Sehun flashes him a discreet wink before turning around to his friends again. Baekhyun is thoroughly pourring water into his and Chanyeol's cups, but the latter is watching Sehun with a serious look that clashes with all the smiles Jongdae has seen him sport until then. 

“Be careful,” he says, before drawing back his attention on the two cups of ramen and Baekhyun. 

Jondgae gasps as Sehun closes his fingers around his wrist and drags him towards the door. He absolutely does not want to go outside, and if he had the choice, he'll even go back into the darkness of Sehun's room, so he could just forget about the sun shining bright above their heads. Sehun obviously has something else in mind, and contrary to Jongdae, who shrinks on himself as they step out of the wooden house, Sehun doesn't appear remotely afraid. His rush dies down a little though, and his walk turns even more silent as he drags Jongdae to the far end of the patio, where the stairs leading to his room starts. Unable to tell him to stop, since Jongdae doesn't even dare to breathe in deeply because of the sound it might draw out of his lungs, he makes sure Sehun knows how incomfortable he is by squeezing his hand so tight he might just break a few bones. Sehun makes a face over his shoulder, but Jongdae's silent torture only gets him to speed up as he runs up the few steps. Finally letting go of Jongdae's hand, he puts his cup of ramen and the bottle on his room's roof. He grips it, the wooden boards only reaching the lower half of his torso, and hauls himself on it. Crouched down on the roof, he turns towards Jongdae, a smile sparkling with glee and inviting turning his eyes into slits. 

Jongdae glances at the trees around them, and the colors exploding everywhere in his line of vision. Green for the foliage, golden for the light passing through it, and brown for the trees, the dirt, the branches. He spots yellow popping out here and there in the shape of a few mushroams huddled against the trees' bases, and tiny red dots merging in with the deep green of the berry bushes. By night, nature looks so different, hungry, eager to take back the spot left by human kind, one blade of grass at a time. But right now, in broad daylight, it keeps on living with the same peacefulness feeling Jongdae remembers from happier, distant days. When he looks up, Sehun is bathing in the light pourring down on his room's roof from a hole in the foliage large enough to engulf Sehun wholly. The latter turns his head towards him, and smiles. 

“Come here,” he says, his voice low, barely louder than a whisper, but it still has Jongdae freezing and glancing around him. 

“Shut up,” he finally hisses to Sehun. His anger doesn't show as well as he'd want it to because his voice is actually more of a whisper, but he's pretty sure it wouldn't have worked on Sehun anyway. 

He watches Sehun take the bottle and put it straight under the sunlight, and Jongdae's stomach takes the lead. He takes a first tentative step towards the roof, and stops to cast a long look around him. Sehun is watching him, obviously very amused, but Jongdae couldn't care less. He won't get himself killed because he's too confident or too cocky, and right now, it doesn't matter that Sehun somehow gives him the impression to know more than he does. 

“Infected don't really look up,” Sehun finally tells him with a slight smile. “Why do you think that animals on the ground are pretty rare when birds are proliferating?”

“Because there's less meat on them?”

Sehun snorts, and the sound clashes with the peacefulness of the forest. Jongdae slightly recoils, scanning the surroundings of the tree house, and Sehun watches him, very amused. When Jongdae is finally sure nothing is coming towards them, he straightens up and defies Sehun's smug look with a deathly glare.

“Some of them are pretty clever,” he tells him. The alpha's face floods his mind, and Jongdae has to take another look around him to try and lessen the fear, even slightly. 

Sehun nods, shifting on his butt and tilting his body on the right so he can snatch Jongdae's cup of ramen from his hand just by stretching his arm. He goes back to his original spot and opens the cup under Jongdae's outraged eyes. 

“I know,” Sehun says. “I reckon it might have to do with their levels of infection. Those whose organisms are weaker have completely disappeared under the Misty virus, but I think others managed to keep a little of who they were, mostly their human intelligence.”

Jongdae considers what Sehun said for a few seconds. They'll never have any answer for that question, but Sehun's makes sense, in a very terrible and scary way. He makes a face as he mindlessly hauls himself on the roof, his hunger leading the way. He pretends he doesn't notice Sehun's very pleased face as he sits next to him. 

“If that's true,” Jongdae mumbles. “Then it's terrible for those people.”

“And terrible for the Immunes dealing with them,” Sehun concludes. 

Jongdae nods with a faint smile deprived of joy. Next to him, Sehun checks the temperature of the water by curling his fingers around the bottle. Slightly deflating, he lets the bottle under the sun, and motions towards Jongdae's cup of ramen with a tilt of his head. 

“I'd crush the noodles if I were you,” he says. “They're pretty long to soak up the water when it's cold, and crushing them helps.”

Jongdae glances at the noodles, and his stomach grumbles. He's pretty sure he won't have the patience to wait until the noodles have soaked up the water, so Sehun's advice might be a good idea. Hopefully, they won't be too crunchy, but at this point, he wouldn't even care. He has to fight himself not to sprinkle the flavor bag on them and eat them like chips, so, really, crunchy noodles should do. 

He puts his hand into the cup and closes his fingers around the noodles. A slight pressure is enough for them to be crushed, but Jongdae does it three times, just to be sure. Looking up, he finds Sehun watching him with a restrained laughter hanging off his lips, and Jongdae freezes, glaring at him. 

“Please don't laugh,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “We're outside.”

Sehun nods. “We are. But it's great, I mean, you're so pale, it should help you look like an actual living human.”

Jongdae glares at him, his hand still in his ramen cup. 

“We don't all have a tree house,” he retorts, to which Sehun chuckles. 

“But honestly,” Sehun says, gesturing at the forest around them. “Isn't it pretty?” 

Jongdae keeps glaring at Sehun for a few more seconds, but he finally gives in to the sun shining bright above their heads. It has been indeed quite long since Jongdae last enjoyed a day of light and warmth, since even the few times the sun has caught him on the road in the past year have been nothing but fear and sweat gathering on his collarbones, but the feeling is somehow different this time. Just slightly, but it's enough for Jongdae to let the peaceful beauty of what is spreading at his feet reach him. He watches the leaves and their veins standing out with a darker green under the light, and the butterflies whirling around, stoping to bury themselves in colourful flowers remind him summer hpis now fully settled. Sehun's right, there are a lot of birds, and Jongdae catches at least three of them in each tree, but they belong here. That deep into the woods, it's like nothing happened.

Jongdae glances at Sehun, the latter taking in the view before him with an adoring smile and dangling legs, and thoughts of Yeri and Jongin take Jongdae by surprise. He can't help the feeling that despite his skills, his height and the serious face he sports most of the time, Sehun is actually younger than him, and Jongdae has absolutely no idea what to do with that piece of information.

 

 

Sehun _is_ younger. Actually, he's about the same age Jongin was. It's nothing but a coincidence, but it still leaves a bitter taste in Jongdae's mouth. Chanyeol and Baekhyun, on the other hand, are the same age as him. He learns a lot more about his new roommates in the following days, the following weeks, mostly because of how they act towards him. Contrary to what he was expecting, Chanyeol is actually the most cautious around him, when Baekhyun is all light smiles and polite questions such as _have you slept well?_. Chanyeol's eyes narrow slightly when Jongdae is around, and he always hesitates to speak, as though afraid Jongdae might use his words against him sooner or later. Jongdae doesn't blame him—actually, he thinks Chanyeol might be the smartest of the three, since Sehun acts as if he trusts Jongdae with his everything already, and Baekhyun has a tendency to let things slip. He's indeed very talkative. Sometimes, he sits down next to Jongdae, and they talk. It takes Jongdae a few days, but he finally figures out why Baekhyun seems to enjoy those long conversations so much. They mostly talk about the way it was before, the ice-cream truck that used to stop by Baekhyun's street, or his first job as a dishwasher. It's all melancholy, longing for a world that doesn't exist anymore, but sometimes it takes him into more delicate topics, and that's how he ends up revealing to Jongdae where they hide their weapons. Chanyeol hisses when Baekhyun lets the information slip, and Baekhyun's eyes open wide. Sehun only laughs. 

Jongdae also learns how to navigate through the tree house. The higher room is Sehun's. Chanyeol and Baekhyun sleep in the same room just next to the main one (with Sehun now, since the latter willingly let his room to Jongdae), and the other one, on the other side of the trees, is for ammos and food. Sehun only took him there once, but Jongdae quickly left it when he noticed how nervous it made Chanyeol. He's still weaponless (and even though he knows where the weapons are he doesn't even try since they never leave him alone), and he doesn't want Chanyeol to snap at him and throw him out of the house. Things are different up there, not perfect, but somehow safer. Jongdae gets a sunburn during the second week, and although it hurts like a bitch (“ _Nothing that honey can't fix!_ Sehun singsongs) Jongdae is secretely very pleased about it. 

Time seems to go slower deep into the forest, and even though Jongdae doesn't really leave the house (he still has to gain their trust to be allowed to come with them when they go for a raid), he doesn't get bored of the green engulfing them, and the peaceful noises that never allow the deep and suffocating silence to settle down. It feels like he's taking a break from what's out there, who he left and who left him, and Jongdae lets the unfamiliar feeling lure him deeper into that alternative universe. He knows he's hiding, and using the trees around him to block everything, from the sick worry knotting his stomach when he thinks about Soojung and Seulgi, to the breathtaking pain freezing him when he lets his mind wander too close to Yeri and Jongin, but it's honestly the only thing to do if he wants to stay alive, _sane_. He wakes up everyday with thoughts of leaving, of staying in motion and going to Russia like he had planned, but he dismisses them. He doesn't want to go back there. It sounds like a death sentence in the world they're living in, but Jongdae is too scared. Way too scared. 

It's on the third week, when Sehun is out, left food hunting, that Jongdae, Baekhyun and Chanyeol somehow end up sharing the story of how they defied the end of the world. 

“I was in a bathroom when my parents turned,” Jongdae says. “It was really fast for them, didn't even take a day. They were trying to break the door to get to me, they were screaming, bumping their heads against the wood, scrapping it with their nails... I was so freaking scared.”

He lets out a faint chuckle. It's funny, really, how so many things change in a year.

“How did you make it?” Chanyeol says, his round eyes glued to Jongdae. 

He's been lowering his defenses the past few days, and Jongdae can't say he's unhappy about it. He's under the impression that Baekyun is somehow involved in Chanyeol's friendlier beheavior though, because those two have the most symbiotic relationship Jongdae has ever seen—which isn't a surprise since they told him a few days ago that they actually grew up together. But it has come to the point that Chanyeol is made of pieces of Baekhyun, whereas Baekhyun sometimes wears Chanyeol's character's traits as if they were his. Now they're both staring at Jongdae, holding their breaths with the same expression of fear on their faces. It's a story they've all lived one way or another, but Jongdae understands the curiosity. He is, himself, pretty curious about them as well. 

He thinks about Jongdeok grabbing his father's razor and turning to look at Jongdae with big wide horrified eyes. 

“I took my father's razor,” Jongdae says. He's purposely leaving Jongdeok out. He doesn't feel like talking about his brother tonight. “And I opened the door.”

Baekhyun and Chanyeol exchange a look. Killing or be killed, it's the only rule now, but at that time, it was still a truth that had yet to be discovered. Jongdeok did it to save him, to save both of them, and when he thinks about it now, Jongdae still isn't sure how he did it. Their parents were hysterical, and so very determined to eat both their sons, but when they dived into the bathroom after Jongdeok had opened the door, they somehow didn't bite neither of them. Looking back at it, Jongdae thinks it was nothing more than luck, if seeing your big brother killing your parents can be seen as luck. 

“What about you guys?” Jondgae asks, dismissing all thoughts of Jongdeok. 

“We were in China to visit a friend when the lab exploded and the Mist spread,” Chanyeol explains. “And we've stayed in China ever since. It's as simple as that.”

Baekhyun nods. 

“The most surprising though, is how Sehun found us. We were trying to build Chanyeol's crazy as fuck idea when he stumbled upon us. He was still wearing his military clothes. I think he saw the opportunity the tree house could give him if we managed to build it.”

“Of course he did,” Chanyeol butts in. “It was a great idea, not a _crazy as fuck_ idea.”

“Great, maybe, but still crazy, you can't tell me otherwise!”

Jongdae drifts away from their friendly bickering, as he wonders if he heard well. His eyebrows furrowed, he looks up towards Chanyeol and Baekhyun. 

“I'm sorry,” he cuts them without an ounce of regret. “Military clothes?”

Baekhyun and Chanyeol both nod in unison. 

“He was one year into his military service when shit happened,” Chanyeol tells him. “He got sent into the Mist with half of the Korean army.”

Jongdae freezes, images of the thick white cloud covering hundreds of kilometers flashing through his mind. The world was standing on the edge, the journalists were feeding on this new exciting topic, and there wasn't a day when you could turn on your TV and not stumble upon another show about the Mist. People were all wondering what it was, if it was dangerous, what was going under the silvery highlights, and it didn't even take two days for China, Russia, Japan and Korea to send some of their men straight into it to dig for answers. When none of them came back, the United States sent theirs, then Europe, and then the Mist was gone, and people were dead, and the world finally fell into the abyss. 

Jongdae had absolutely no idea that Sehun had been one of those men. He knows that people under the Mist turned almost right away, and that means hundreds of Infected. Jongdae really can't see how Immunes could have survived to this, but Sehun obviously made it. Curiosity floods his mind as a dozen of questions rain down on him. He wonders how it was in the Mist, if it felt like breathing a deadly plague or not, if Sehun could see in front of him. But mostly, he wonders how it changed Sehun, if that's the reason why he sometimes looks pretty indifferent to the certainty that death is lurking in the forest. Is it because he's seen worse? Is it because, for him, the end of the world started one week earlier than for everyone else? 

When he looks up, both Chanyeol and Baekhyun look mildly embarassed as they realise they may have revealed something important about Sehun, something Sehun maybe didn't want to share. Jongdae can't help the faint smile to spread on his lips when he sees Baekhyun rub his neck, a nervous gesture he's seen Chanyeol do billions of time. 

“I won't tell,” he reassures them.

“That'd be really nice,” Baekhyun says, and Chanyeol nods. 

“Maybe I'll reconsider that room idea then,” the latter slightly jokes, and it does the trick. Baekhyun chuckles, and Jongdae lets go of the topic with a smile. He _looks_ like he does, anyway. 

When Sehun comes back a few hours later, Jongdae can't help but glance at him everytime he's sure Sehun won't catch him. He remembers the air shots of the border of the Mist, and how all of his family, him included, held their breaths as the TV showed Korean soldiers walk straight into the thick cloud under the journalists' very serious comments. Sehun was probably one of them. 

 

 

“Hey Jongdae?”

Jongdae grumbles as Sehun's cheeky voice fills the space around him, driving him farther away from his much desired sleep. 

“Hey Jongdae?” Sehun repeats, singsongs. “Are you decent?”

Jongdae opens his eyes, but it doesn't change anything. The darkness he was staring at when they were closed is just maybe a shade darker than the one he's eye scanning now. He wants nothing more than to bury himself in it again, but each second passing by with the knowledge that Sehun is probably crouched down behind the door finishes to bring him back to the land of awake people. 

“Do you think I sleep naked?” he snaps back, annoyed. 

Sehun's chuckling is the only answer he gets, along with a mumbled comeback Jongdae knows better than to try to grasp. He sits up, the lower half of his body sinking deeper into the thick blankets, and shifts on his hands and knees. It took him a few nights to learn how to find his way out of the room, the thick darkness blocking all chances of instinctive points of references, but he now knows it like the back of his hand. He tilts his head on the right to avoid the flashlight still dangling off the ceiling, and keeps walking on all fours until he's sure the door is right in front of him. He stretches his arm, and his fingers brush against the doorknob. 

When he opens it, a dim light rushes into the room. When Jongdae went to bed, the sky was painted with orange and pink splinters, but during the past hour, while he was trying so hard to fall asleep, the sun has dipped behind the horizon line, and only a fleeting light manages to reach them now. Sehun is looking paler under the blue aura it gives him, but the ghostly light falling over him doesn't manage to block the mischief in his eyes, and the proud smile he's flashing to Jongdae from where he's standing, bent down towards the entrance of the room. 

“Fancy a night out?” Sehun asks. 

Jongdae frowns, and his confused look seems to please Sehun. He pulls out a gun he was hiding behind his back and waves it at Jongdae. 

“A _real_ night out?”

Jongdae exits the room, immediately going back on his to feet, and Sehun straightens. Jongdae watches him for a few seconds, the smile plastered on his thin lips, and his crescent-shapped eyes glued to him. He glances around, expecting Chanyeol and Baekhyun to pop out of nowhere yelling _Got'cha!_ , but nothing happens. The night is getting ready to swoop down on them, bugs are singing and frogs are croaking, but Chanyeol and Baekhyun are nowhere in sight. When Jongdae looks back at Sehun, the latter has quit smiling, but he is still watching Jongdae with his usual intense eyes. 

“Is this a joke?” Jongdae carefully asks, to which Sehun chuckles. 

“Nope. Baekhyun and Chanyeol already left, and you and I, we're going in the opposite direction to try and find a gas bottle. I'll need you to carry it back here if we do.”

Jongdae nods. In less than a month, summer will be done. Fall will be quick to hit, with explosions of warm but soft colors, and then winter will arrive sooner than expected. Cold winds, low temperatures, snow, blizzards... Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Sehun are already trying to stock everything they can, and until then, Jongdae was left behind, only allowed to watch. 

“So?” Sehun asks. “Are you coming or not?”

Jongdae quickly turns around to close the door behind him, and Sehun chuckles. He grabs Jongdae by the belt and pulls on it to slide the gun against his hipbone. Jongdae's hand immediately flies away to the grip, and he lets his fingers slide against it, enjoying the familiar shape and weight against his hip. 

“Did Baekhyun and Chanyeol agree to this?” he asks Sehun. 

“Yeah, actually it was Chanyeol's idea. He said that since you were using our resources, you might as well help.”

“Sounds like Chanyeol,” Jongdae snorts. 

Sehun smiles, giving Jongdae a light nod before walking down the stairs, followed by Jongdae. Adrenaline is waking up in Jongdae's body, not overwhelming enough to make him feel like he can move mountains yet, but still tingling enough to make his muscles itch. He's never been fond of the danger, and if he could, he'd stay hidden all his probably short life, but this mission is important. It's not just about making sure they don't freeze to death, it's also about trust, in a way. Chanyeol has been so wary with him, not even allowing him to go to the food house to bring back a few snacks, and now he's letting him go out with Sehun for an important mission. Three weeks in the tree house have made Jongdae care maybe more than he should, and he can't help but feel pleased at this sudden turn of events. 

And maybe it has also something to do with the fact that he'll be alone with Sehun, but that, Jongdae would rather not dwell on.

Sehun knocks the rock to which the ladder is attached off the patio with the tip of his shoe. They watch the ladder unfold as it falls to the ground, and exchange a look. 

“As for me,” Sehun says with mischief. “I said that you were already becoming rusty, so a little of action was much needed.”

Jongdae looks at him, but the blank face he was planning on flashing Sehun cracks when the latter stares back, lips parted on pointy teeth and eyes sparkling with mischief. It has Jongdae smiling, and even fighting back a chuckle as he finally looks away, slightly shaking his head. Sehun is part of those things that make the tree house so different in Jongdae's mind, like it's out of the world, away from the tragedies and slaughters, because Sehun's most important struggle always seems to be how to find the perfect joke to make them laugh. The lack of fear, or sadness in his behavior doesn't make him look like he's out of place though, like Jongin was, for example. Jongin liked to see the world in every angle that didn't make it look as deadly as it really is, but Sehun isn't fleeing from the truth. Actually, it's more like he's just accepted it in a deeper level that has him truly belonging. 

Jongdae isn't really sure, but he can't deny that there's something about Sehun that is different, and it keeps making him even more curious with each day passing by. 

“Let's go,” Jongdae says.

Sehun gives a short nod before kneeling down on the patio, his back turned on the void. Jongdae bends down, offering his arm to Sehun who takes it naturally. He curls his fingers around Jongdae's forearm, and they both tense while Sehun moves backwards until his feet find the first rung. Jongdae holds him, bending even more, as Sehun's body is now dangling above six meters of void. Sehun glances up at him with a smile when he feels Jongdae's arm muscles shake under the effort, but he finally steps down on the ladder to grab it with his other hand. His position now secured, he lets go of Jongdae's arm. The latter has bent down so much that he's almost sitting down on the wooden boards, and that's exactly what he ends up doing while Sehun grabs the ladder with his second hand. 

“Thanks,” Sehun says with a smile, his face the only part of his body sticking out of the patio. “Will you be okay?”

Jongdae snorts. 

“Of course I will. I'm not that rusty.”

Sehun chuckles, delighted at the inside joke. He reaches out and pinches Jongdae's thigh, eyes narrowing to slits when Jongdae hisses, and quickly starts his descent before Jongdae can get back to him. Jongdae lies down on the patio and grabs the ladder, trying to maintain it so that it doesn't sway too much under Sehun's movements. His eyes follow the latter until he finally lands on the ground. 

Sehun looks up as he pulls his bow over his head. 

“You can go!” he whispers. “I'll hold the ladder!”

Jongdae nods, and finally turns around, shifting on his knees. He checks the gun in his belt, so relieved to have something to protect him again, and finally throws one of his leg backwards. The tip of his foot searches the darkness for a few short seconds until he finally finds the first rung. Jongdae immediately puts his foot on it before bending down and gripping the left rope of the ladder with his hand. The ladder sways, and then stops after Sehun secured it down there. 

Living in a tree house somehow familiarized Jongdae with heights, and he's not new to that ladder. Even though he's never really left the surroundings of the tree house, he went down it a few times before, and he knows better than to panic at the void now closing its claws around him. Tree climbing isn't amongst his skills yet though, unlike Sehun, or even Baekhyun who never uses the ladder to leave the house. Jongdae won't play in the branches anytime soon, anyway, so it's okay. 

Closing his eyes, Jongdae finally drops his body so he can put his second foot on the rung, as well as secure his other hand around the rope. The ladder rocks despite Sehun's grip, but Jongdae has gone through the most difficult part already, so he just waits a few seconds for it to calm down before starting his descent. It doesn't take him long, less than two minutes, and when he reaches the last few rungs, he jumps off the ladder, landing smoothly next to Sehun. The younger boy welcomes him with a smile, and finally presses a finger to his own lips to gesture him to keep quiet. Jongdae nods, and follows Sehun back into the trees. 

He's impressed, honestly, on how Sehun manages to navigate through the vegetation without an ounce of hesitation. Jongdae knows better than to think Sehun is just randomly walking and hoping that it would take them out of the woods eventually, but he guesses one year in a forest can help knowing it like the back of your hand. Be it out of habit, or more thanks to skills, Sehun leads them both towards the main road that they finally reach after a one hour and a half walk through the trees. Silver moonlight is pourring down on the concrete, slightly lighting up the night now fully settled, and even though the danger never really dies, both Jongdae and Sehun breathe a little more easily now that they're out of the woods. They exchange a glance but don't stop walking. 

Jongdae feels like something is grabbing him by his belt and trying to lure him on the opposite direction, stronger with every step he takes next to Sehun. He knows very well where this sudden pull comes from, just like he knows that he really shouldn't turn around or glance over his shoulder. There's a ghost behind him, huge and very scary, that has the shape of the house he met Luhan in a little over three weeks ago, and Jongdae is way too much scared to face it. Holding his breath, he speeds up, forcing Sehun to follow him instead of the other way around. 

Jongdae catches Sehun throwing him a confused look from the edge of his vision, but then he looks over his shoulder, and the sight of the house and the perpendicular road leading to it must give him all the answers he wanted, since he doesn't ask. Instead, Jongdae feels something grazing his hand, and when he looks down, he's surprised to catch Sehun's fingers inching closer to his.

Jongdae raises his head towards Sehun, but the latter isn't looking at him. He motions at the far end of the road with a slight gesture of the head. 

“There's a village over there,” Sehun whispers. “We're going there. I already searched through most of the houses, but who knows. There's this huge villa, and if the owners were rich enough to own a house like that, I'm pretty sure they'll have at least one gas bottle.”

Sehun's index finger is now rubbing up and down Jondgae's palm with every stride they take. Jongdae watches Sehun until the latter finally meets his gaze, but Sehun's eyes are impossible to read, even darker than usual, so Jongdae settles for a simple nod. Sehun answers with a faint smile, and they keep walking in silence. In the long hour it takes them to reach the previously mentionned village, Sehun's hand keeps hovering Jongdae's palm, sometimes brushing it with his fingers, sometimes with the side of his thumb. Jondae doesn't pull away, but doesn't dare to lean further into the touch as well, but he finds himself more grateful than he should that Sehun doesn't need his authorization to keep his hand where it is.

“That one,” Sehun suddenly says. He uses the hand playing with the space around Jongdae's hand to point at the shadow of an indeed huge house. It takes Jongdae a few seconds to stop staring at Sehun's fingers and actually focus on the house. 

“The villa?” he questions. 

Sehun nods. He pulls his bow on his back, and grabs the knife at his belt instead. Jongdae glances around them, at the forest they're still walking along on their left, and feels a sudden rush of excitement, of _hope_. 

“That's where you come almost every day?”

Sehun nods. He mistakes the look on Jongdae's face for worry. 

“I've never been attacked here,” he reassures them, but it couldn't be farther away from Jongdae's mind. The latter licks his lips, hesitant, and Sehun finally catches. He flashes him a questioning look. “What?” he asks. 

Jongdae looks over his shoulder again, then at the village they're now about to enter. The scene is hazy in his mind, the background not important enough for his eyes to have registered it back then, but he knows, he is _certain_ , that Seulgi's group fled that way. They couldn't have gone deeper into the woods, that would have been suicidal with all the Infected rushing out of their nests, attracted by Yeri's blood. Jongdae knows Seulgi, she probably led them along the road, and the village is the first stop on it. 

“I just...” he mumbles, and then finally gathers his courage. “Have you seen anyone _else_ than the Infected?”

Sehun stares at him for a short moment, the shadows on his face casted by the moolight following the furrowing of his eyebrows, and making his face looks more chiselled than it is. Jongdae feels uncomfortable under his gaze, and he quickly looks away. The silence draws out, and it takes a few more seconds for Jongdae to realise that it's enough of an answer. 

“There are no traces of attacks though,” Sehun finally says, in a poor attempt at cheering Jongdae up. “It's a good thing, that means they're alive.”

Jongdae gives a short nod. Of course it is, but it's far from cheering him up. He's not mad at them for leaving him behind, he _asked_ them to, but that was because Yeri was dead in his arms, bleeding, convulsing, and Jongdae wanted nothing more than dying as well. He hadn't planned on Sehun saving him, and probably hadn't planned on him being so attached to Soojung, Seulgi, Junmyeon, Suhyun, Taehyung and even Kyungsoo that much. He wonders how they're dealing with Yeri's death, and if they're blamming him for what happened, because Jongdae is. So much, actually that he feels himself close to insanity everytime his mind brushes the topic. The tree house has protected him from all of those thoughts until then, but now...

“This way. The wall has crumbled down on the right side of the house,” Sehun says, jerking him out of his thoughts. His eyes stay a little longer than what they need on his face, then he ends up taking his hand. “This way,” he repeats.

Jongdae follows wordlessly as Sehun drags him to the right side of the garden, and soon enough, he indeed finds that the brick wall has crumbled down. The culprit is most surely the huge tree hovering it, or most specifically the thick branch that fell from it and is now lying across the wall, bricks scattered underneath it. Sehun steps over the few inches left of the wall, and stops right there, a leg on each side, and his hand still secured around Jongdae's. He looks very determined not to let go of it even as he scans the garden on the other side of the wall. The way he's twisting his torso to be able to check right and left, and how he's brandishing his knife in a very defensive posture when the other half of his body looks like it's curling towards Jongdae forces a smile out of the latter. 

“I think we can go,” Sehun finally murmurs. The lack of answer has him looking back at Jongdae, and upon seeing the smile on the latter's face, he frowns. “What?”

Jongdae half-sighs, half-chuckles. He shakes his head and pulls out his hand. 

“Nothing,” he says before taking Sehun by the hips and forcing him to cross the wall. “Let's go,” he adds when Sehun throws him another confused look over his shoulder. “We have to be back before the sunrise.”

That seems to force Sehun to focus again, and he gives a sharp nod before slightly crouching down. Jongdae follows him, drawing his gun and removing the safety. They exchange a look, and Sehun shows him the closest wall with a tilt of the head. Jongdae wordlessly agrees. 

Slightly bent down, they both run towards the wall as silently as possible, the high grass muffling their footsteps. Sehun, with his long legs, gets there first, but Jongdae is quick to join him. They look at each other, pressed against the wall, as they both prick up their ears, just in case. A few minutes pass by slowly and silently, before Sehun lets out the breath he was holding in. Jongdae smiles. 

“Scared?” he asks. 

Sehun shakes his head. 

“Empty houses make me fucking nervous.”

Jongdae won't argue with that, because when they finally enter the villa through the window just above their heads, the furniture here and there and the long and very fancy curtains looking like ghosts force a shudder out of him. He glances at Sehun who is glaring at the said curtains and, feeling Jongdae's gaze on him, he turns around with a slight shrug. 

“I'm nervous,” he repeats. 

Jongdae chuckles. 

“We should check the cellar first things first. If there's indeed a gas bottle in that stupid house, it's probably not in the fancy living room.” 

Sehun smiles. 

“Hey,” he teases. “You're really not that rusty, are you?” 

Jongdae flashes him an eye roll, before turning on his heels. There's something very creepy about the size of this house, and the large room they're currently standing in. It looks so clean, despite the dust and the climbing rose peeking through the broken window of the far end of the room. The cushions are still perfectly lined up on the couch, and there's even a cup of tea left on the coffee table. Jongdae makes a face and looks over at Sehun, who also spotted the cup. He scrunches up his face and walks towards the table to peek into the cup. 

“Ew,” he moans. “Fancy a one year old cup of tea?”

Jongdae snorts. “No thanks, you can help yourself.”

“No way,” Sehun retorts. 

He looks away from the cup of tea, and Jongdae does the same. Sehun was right, the owners were probably very rich, judging by the quality of the furniture and the effort put in the decoration of the room. Money didn't bring them far in the end, Jongdae thinks with irony. How much time did they spend trying to make a fortune? It sounded so important in the world before, but in the end, it didn't save anyone. The villa's owners are probably sleeping in a nest right now, green foam dripping out of their mouths. Unless they were immune, and if they were, chances are that they probably ended up eaten alive. 

“Hey, look at that,” Sehun calls him out. 

Jongdae turns on his heels, and finds Sehun with what looks like a vinyl record player. Jongdae lets out a whistle of admiration as he steps closer. It looks like a very recent player though, probably bought because of the sudden comeback of the vinyl's trend, so it's not as pretty as the older, the _real_ ones are, but it's still a vinyl player. Sehun brings it up to his face to blow away the thick layer of dust lying on top of it. 

“There's a vinyl record inside,” he says. He turns the player and glances at the back before looking up towards Jongdae. “It wasn't plugged in. D'you think there's a chance it works on battery?”

Jongdae presses a palm over the vinyl record player to check the back as well, and when he looks up at Sehun, the latter is watching with his eyes wider than they've ever been, and hope flooding his features. Jongdae's heart misses a beat, and he smiles softly. Music has to be one of the things he misses the most, and seeing how excited Sehun is, he's not the only one. They exchange a look. 

“Should we try?” Jondgae asks, and Sehun furiously nods. 

“Wait,” he says before putting down the player on the dresser. He carefully removes the transparent top, and puts it away. Both he and Jongdae leans down to look at the vinyl record. 

“It's an Italian song,” Jongdae says. “I giardini di marzo?” 

Sehun chuckles. “Your accent is horrible.”

“Because you know how to speak Italian?” 

Sehun shrugs. He takes a look at the vinyl record. 

“It's a song by Lucio Battisti” he says, pronouncing the artist's name with a terribly stereotypical Italian accent that has Jongdae muffling his laughter behind his hand. 

“Stop laughing,” Sehun snaps at him, himself half chuckling as well. “Press play!”

Jongdae nods, smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt. He leans down over the player and takes between two delicate fingers the stylus that he puts on the vinyl. Sehun is watching him, holding his breath and widening a little more his eyes when Jongdae glances at him before pressing the on button on the back of the player. 

A red, flickering light turns on on the front of the player, and the vinyl starts turning, filling the room with a deep, so deep, crackling. Jongdae straightens, his eyes never leaving Sehun, and Sehun's eyes never leaving his. A melody starts, guitar notes taking over the crackling sound, and Jongdae can't refrain a shudder. Sehun's eyes are still wide open as he stares at Jongdae, and Jongdae can't let go of them, the sound, so clear, engulfing them both. The singer starts to sing, his voice low and thick, strong against the night, half whispering, half singing. The intonations sound very foreign to Jongdae, unusual to the point that he struggles to imagine that they are words full of meaning hiding behind them, but despite it all, it sounds so beautiful, so passionate. 

The guitar keeps playing, and soon, what sounds like a violon joins the melody, crashing against Jongdae's skin in a wave of goosebumps. After a whole year without music, he couldn't have dreamed of a better song, and a better place to listen to it. Sehun is still standing inches from him, wide eyes, parted lips and looking younger than he ever has before, and just so beautiful under the faint moonlight. Jongdae's heart beats probably faster than it should, but he can't help it, not with the way the Italian singer is singing his emotions in such a raw way. 

The chorus hits them both in an explosion that forces a faint whimper out of Sehun. 

“It sounds so sad,” he says in a shaky whisper, and Jongdae can't help but agree. 

It is, Jongdae mentally agrees. The singer's voice sounds broken, mourning, and so longing for something that is now out of reach. Jongdae has no idea what he's singing about, but he feels a little broken just listening to it, and he has to swallow down his tears before the second verse even starts. Sehun is watching him with big glistening eyes, the outlines of his body turning hazy until Jongdae finally blinks away the wetness in his own eyes. 

Sehun flashes him a faint smile that Jongdae can't help but give back. He hadn't planned the music to hit him that much, and the embarrassment he can see painting Sehun's freckles with a faint pink tells him the latter hadn't as well. They keep listening to the voice singing griefs and pains that they don't understand, but that maybe don't even need to be worded, half-smiling half-tearing up, and Jongdae already readies himself to play the song again when it'll be done. 

Except that it never reaches the ending. An ear-splitting shriek suddenly shatters the night and the beautiful voice, so close, so inhuman. Sehun and Jongdae both crouch down, Jongdae's heart jumping up his throat as he clenches his hand on his gun. Sehun is watching him with wide eyes. 

“The music,” Jongdae breathes out. “It woke them up...”

Sehun glances at the vinyl player up on the dresser, and Jongdae sees something dark, so dark, flash in his eyes. Fear leaves room to cold determination, and there are no tears in Sehun's eyes anymore when he pushes the vinyl player off the dresser. Jongdae watches it crash, and winces when the music stop abruptly. Another scream pierces their eardrums, closer, and they exchange a look. Jongdae glances over his shoulder and grabs Sehun's hand. He drags him behind the huge couch which is facing the door, still crouched down. They both hear very clearly the front door open with a squeak, as well as the parquet creaking. Jongdae's heart explodes in his chest. 

The Infected is taking small, explorative steps around the lobby, which is the room just next to the living room. From where they're hiding, Jongdae can hear him breathe, faster than a plain human. The Infected is also smelling the air, his jaws clicking on the void, and his throat emitting sharp sounds that somehow remind Jongdae of his mother stirring dozens of mussels in her large cooking pot. 

Unable to talk, Sehun and Jongdae keep staring at each other. Jongdae knows they're both hoping the Infected will walk away on his own, but he also knows that it's highly unlikely. If the creature ends up coming closer, they'll have to kill it. Which could be dangerous. Or lead to other Infected being woken up by the noise. The Infected paces up and down the lobby, and finally stops, jaws clicking even harder as he breathes in deeply. Jongdae is almost certain he's now closer, as if he was standing on the threshold of the living room and eye scanning the room. Apparently, Sehun seems to be under the same impression as he presses his lips into a thin line. Slowly and quietly, he takes his bow in his hand, very careful not to make the slightest sound. Jongdae helps him, fingers delicately closing an arrow and pulling it out before handing to Sehun. The latter nods thankfully and nocks the arrow, his bow still lowered so that it doesn't stick out. 

They watch each other as the Infected takes a first step into the room. Sehun's eyes flicker to the gun Jongdae is still holding, and Jongdae slightly nods to make him understand that he'll use it if it's needed. 

The Infected suddenly stops, and draws in a long breath that sounds like a gurgle because of the green pus probably sliding down his throat. The scream he lets out though, has nothing to do with the thick sound. It's, on the contrary, sharp and ear-splitting, so high and bestial. Jongdae has heard that kind of scream a hundred of times before. The Infected is calling the rest of his pack. 

Sehun immediately reacts. He stands up, and draws back his bow. Jongdae follows suit, a burning mix of fear and adrenaline flooding him, and the Infected's scream dies down to finally turn into a shriek as he-- _she_ Jongdae realises, flashes her teeth at them. Sehun shoots his arrow, and it goes right between the Infected's eyes. She drops down, stone dead. 

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” Jongdae whispers. He jumps over the couch and rushes to the Infected's body. He puts his foot on the Infected's chest and uses it to root the body to the spot while he closes his fingers around the arrow and pulls it out. He knows how precious they are, they can't really afford to waste a single one of them,. He also puts his new position in the threshold to good use. He leans forward and take a quick glance through the front door still wide opened on the garden. His eyes fall on a garden shed whose doors are also opened, and he winces. 

“I think the nest is in the garden,” he tells Sehun. Looking over his shoulder, he catches the latter putting the Italian vinyl into the leather bag on his waist. 

Sehun looks up, closing the bag, but keeping his bow in his hand. 

“Then we need to go.”

Jongdae nods, and joins him as silently as he can. Sehun slightly lowers so that Jongdae can put the arrow back into the quiver, and after one last look to the lobby, they both walk back to the window. Jongdae is the first one to jump through it, and once again, the thick vegetation of the garden muffles the thud when he lands. He brandishes his gun before him, aiming into thin air just in case while Sehun goes through the window too. They exchange a look, and set off towards the crumbled wall. This time, Sehun is the one making sure they are not being followed, a new arrow nocked on his bow, the head sliding over the grass while Jongdae jumps over the wall. He squeezes Sehun's side to let him know he can cross it as well, and Sehun immediately obliges. 

They run out of the village by a wordless common consent, heading straight towards the woods. They still have a few hours of night before them, but it might be safer to go back to the tree house for now. Searching the village is unthinkable now, not with a possible pack woken up. Jongdae hopes that Baekhyun and Chanyeol are luckier, and that they found a gas bottle, because he and Sehun are about to come back empty-handed. His heart is still beating wildly against his temple, the erratic rhythm hard to slow down with how fast they're running, but Jongdae is pretty sure no one is after them. They would have heard them already. Looking back at it, he's starting to think that the song, still echoing through his mind, was worth that single Infected. He would have given so much to be able to hear the song until the end though, but with the vinyl in Sehun's bag, there's still a little bit of hope left. 

It takes them about twenty minutes to reach the spot where they walked out of the woods, an hour and a half earlier. Sehun jumps over the ditch, his body gracefully ripping through the air, and Jongdae is about to follow him when a mindless look on his left stops him dead in his tracks. The house where Luhan's gang was staying stands out against the night, like a haunted castle.

“Sehun!” he calls the younger boy out in a whisper, his breath coming out in erratic and short puffs

Sehun almost trips in his haste to turn around, but he stabilizes himself by grabbing a trunk. He raises a questioning eyebrow at Jongdae. 

“Uh?”

Jongdae points at the house, its shadow still terrifying to him. 

“There was a gang in that house,” he tells Sehun. “They had to leave in a hurry, but I'm pretty sure they had a gas bottle. They must have. They probably didn't take it with them.”

Sehun's eyes travel back and forth between Jongdae and the house behind the latter. He hesitates. 

“Are you sure...?”

Jongdae pretends he doesn't understand that Sehun isn't actually asking him whether he's sure about the presence of a hypothetical gas bottle, and nods. 

“It's worth a shot, isn't it? We still have a few hours before the sunrise.”

Sehun considers the house a few more minutes, but he finally gives in. He lets go of the tree and walks back to Jongdae, his gait still hesitant. When he reaches Jongdae, he looks like he's about to say something, but Jongdae doesn't let him the chance to word it as he immediately starts walking towards the house. The sooner they'll be done with it, the better. Each step he's taking forward is knotting his stomach a little more, but Jongdae holds onto thoughts of Chanyeol trusting him with something that important. He thinks about every question he'll ask him when Chanyeol will finally be more comfortable around him, most of them about the tree house, and the remainings one about the platforms twenty meter high. Chanyeol is so difficult to approach, Jongdae has always been too curious for his own good, and the way Baekhyun looks at Chanyeol, how they sometimes laugh together as well as their never-ending playful bickering made him so eager to know more about Chanyeol. It helps Jongdae on the first meters, that and the idea that, maybe, Baekhyun will lose the polite tone with him and use the one he uses with Chanyeol and Sehun, the teasing one, the lighter one.

Sehun is jogging behind him to catch up with him, and his presence helps even more when Jongdae finally reaches the intersection where the road leading to the house starts. Sehun casts him a worried glance, but he doesn't say anything, to which Jongdae is grateful for. Sehun's hand is back at brushing his though. 

It's funny how welcoming the large fields had look under the shy rising sun light, and how deadly and terrifying they look under the pale blue moonlight now. Jongdae has to stop a few times to narrow his eyes at the vegetation, almost sure he caught something moving. Sehun draws back his bow every time, but he never has to shoot the arrow. He looks pretty jittery himself actually, his head snaping right and left every two minutes as if he had caught something moving from the corner of his eye. Even though he doesn't know what happened exactly, Sehun is very much aware of the slaughter that followed. Both of them are feeling quite clearly the underlying threat in the atmosphere. 

Jongdae spots something lying on the concrete a few steps ahead of them, and he narrows his eyes, confused and cautious. It's reflecting the pale blue light, standing out against the darkness, but he can't make out what it is exactly. Next to him, Sehun has stopped starring at the fields to squint at the forms as well. 

“What the fuck..?” he whispers, and that's when Jongdae understands what it is. 

“Oh my god,” he moans. 

Something closes its hand around his stomach, burning, violent and very painful, and he turns aside with a broken sob. He bends down and throws up in the ditch. 

Behind him, he hears Sehun taking a few more steps towards the _thing_. The bitter taste of bile still filling his mouth, Jongdae spits as he closes his eyes. His legs are shaking, and his hands, still on his knees, are sweating, clenching on his pants' fabric. Behind him, Sehun lets out a gasp, finally understanding what he's walking to, and Jongdae lets out another sob. 

“Jongdae,” Sehun whispers somewhere in his back, his voice soft, so soft. “Jongdae, I'm so sorry...”

Jongdae's legs finally give in under him, and he collapses on the concrete, landing on his butt with a thud that he barely feels over the tears choking him. He takes his face in his hands in the faint hope of muffling his cries, but it probably doesn't work that well. Something moves behind him, Sehun most probably, but Jongdae doesn't pay attention. The blinding white of Yeri's bones scattered on the concrete is still spread all over his eyelids and hurting his eyes. They looked so white under the moonlight, so _clean_ , every last bits of her eaten away. Jongdae still remembers her body pressed against his when they were sleeping, her long hair, the dimpled smile, the softness of her cheeks. They took it all away, everything. 

Jongdae chokes a little more on his cries. He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, but the pain doesn't go away. 

“Jongdae,” Sehun says, his voice now closer, so much closer. 

The following second, Jongdae feels him against his back, as if Sehun had curled up around him and pressed his temple on the top of Jongdae's head. Long arms slowly close around him, caging him, and a soft and warm smell of sap fills his nose. Fingers slide up his forearms, curl around his wrist and stay there, warm and overwhelming. 

“Jongdae,” Sehun repeats, more warm than soft this time. “I am so sorry.”

Jongdae lets out a low whine, and Sehun presses himself tighter against him. One of his hands leaves Jongdae's wrist to slide along his neckline, up and down, up and down, his index finger following his jawline, his thumb brushing Jongdae's chin, and then it's down again. It slides down Jongdae's shirt, goes up and stays for a while on Jongdae's collarbone. 

Jongdae finally grabs both of Sehun's arms and holds them tighter against his chest, clenching his fingers around them as he tries to swallow down his cries, in vain. He's suffocating, and it hurts, it hurts so much. Sehun puts his cheek against his shoulder, his hot breath crashing on Jongdae's neck, and Jongdae keeps crying as he lets Sehun cage him, the latter's body stopping him from falling and collapsing on the concrete.

 

 

Jongdae tears another handful of grass, and procedes to rip up every blade until they fall on the concrete in a rain of dark green confettis. His hands look silver under the pale moonlight, and his veins almost black. He can breathe more easily now that he has calmed down, but he still feels like something is stretching in his chest, swelling until it presses painfully against his ribcage, everytime he takes in a lungful of air. His back is turned on the house and the rest of the road, but it doesn't mean that Jongdae doesn't feel _them_. It's making the skin under his shirt prickle, and the line of his shoulders slop even more. 

Sehun has finally pulled away a few moments before, when Jongdae's sobs had died down to shaky breaths, but not before pressing his face into the crook of Jongdae's neck and breathing there, against the sweaty skin. He's now sitting cross-legged in front of Jongdae, his dark eyes wordlessly following Jongdae's every gesture, and willingly listening to him as Jongdae tells him everything, from Luhan to Yeri, without forgetting, of course, Jongin. It helps, somehow, to have finally confessed about Jongin's murder -because it was nothing more than a murder- and Sehun's silence also helps him in saying how he ended up promising himself that he would protect Yeri at all costs, until he eventually got her killed because of what he did to Luhan. Sehun doesn't say a word, but as silence finally draws out around them, he starts tearing handful of grass too. When Jongdae is done with his blades, Sehun hands him the ones he's holding, and they keep going like that for long minutes. Until Sehun's fingers finally linger although Jongdae has taken the grass already. 

Jongdae looks up and finds Sehun watching him, his gaze as overwhelming as his presence was when he was curling against Jongdae, and the latter feels something break inside. He lets out a long, broken breath, and feels the tears filling his eyes again. He lets go of the grass, and holds on to Sehun's fingers instead. 

“Why didn't you stay with them?” Sehun asks. 

Jongdae thinks about Jongin telling him how different his friends were, how they would make Jongdae want to stay, and he sniffs. He wipes away the tears with the back of his free hand.

“They were the right people,” he tells Sehun, and maybe also Jongin if the latter can hear him. “But I wasn't. I'm not.”

Sehun's fingers slide up against his palm. 

“Were you alone when it all started?”

Jongdae always answers with a _yes_ to that question. There are things that belong to him, and him only. It's not because of the trauma -or maybe it's just because of the trauma- because that would be ridiculous, considering that they all lost their families, their loved ones. He likes to talk about Jongdeok, and think about him, as who he was before the end of the world, no who he became after, because that wasn't him. Telling others his and Jongdeok's story could give them the wrong idea. Jongdae is the only one remembering his brother in all the right ways, and he likes it that way. 

But something tells him that Sehun could understand. Somehow. 

“I was with my big brother,” Jongdae finally admits. “My parents turned right away, most people did, but Jongdeok and I, we didn't. There were others like us, people who were immune, and they started running away from the city, so did we, and we thought we had a chance. We were together at least.”

Jongdae suddenly remembers what Sehun told him about the Infected's intelligence. 

“I think you're right when you said there are several different levels of infection. It's the same thing about the infection itself, isn't it? How would one explain that it took barely one day for my parents tot turn, and like one week for others?”

Sehun nods. 

“That's actually where my theory comes from.”

Jongdae flashes him a faint smile. He looks down and grabs another handful of grass. His second hand still playing with Sehun's fingers, he finds himself unable to tear the blades apart, so he resolves to make them roll between his fingers instead. Silence draws out, until Sehun links their fingers. 

Jongdae looks up. 

“He turned, didn't he?” Sehun asks, softly.

Jongdae nods. 

“It took three weeks. I reckon we must have went somewhere where the Misty virus was more present in the air, and Jongdeok's organism couldn't keep up with the intrusion anymore. He breathed it, and two hours later, it was done.”

“Did you kill him?”

“I did, just like he had killed my parents before in order to save us. It wasn't him anymore anyway. I couldn't just run and let him attack people, you know?”

Sehun lightly nods, and they both go back at being silent. All in all, the harder to deal with had been the three weeks of hope, the three weeks of thinking _it's the end of the world but at least I still have Jongdeok_ , to finally reach this point and realise he had to face it all on his own. The loneliness had been suffocating the first days, Jongdae remembers, the air stiffen and the fear deadly. He waited for his own body to give up on him, for the blood in his veins to turn into thick pus, and for the fever to come and fetch him, but it never happened. It had seemed so unfair back then, that he was the one who got to live, and Jongdeok the one who had to die. It still feels unfair, but time has somehow died down the crushing helplessness. What could he do, except keep on living, anyway? 

Jongdae looks up when he remembers that Sehun's experience has probably been really different, and this time, he can't refrain himself from asking.

“How was it? In the Mist?”

Sehun doesn't even look surprised that Jongdae knows about this. The tiny smile he flashes tells Jongdae he probably knows who slipped, but his eyes are devoid of anger. He merely shrugs actually, his face going blank for a few seconds while he remembers. 

“It was like it is now, except that I couldn't even see my legs. The Mist was thick, so thick that it looked solid, and when I breathed in, even through the gas mask, it burned. We weren't even twenty steps into it that soldiers around me started to collapse and convulse. I'm not sure because I was freaking out, but it must have taken them less than ten minutes to turn. I managed to hide inside a car and I stayed there the whole week. When the Mist faded away, I got out, only to see that the world had gone crazy too.”

“How did you eat? Or drink?” Jongdae asks. 

“I found a few snacks and a bottle of water in the car. Even if it wasn't much, it helped me survive the week. I was way too scared to get out, it was... It was like the Mist was alive, you know? The Infected's senses were like ten times better than what they are now, and I'm almost sure the Mist was _talking_ to them to lead them where they would find food. It couldn't reach me in the car, so I didn't get attacked. I also think that's why the Infected stayed in the Mist during the whole week.” 

Sehun lets out a low chuckle, bitter and devoid of any happiness. 

“I think it was bound to happen. I mean, we were playing gods. I used to think it would be like Jurassic Park though, you know? Like something we had created that would turn against us, à la Frankenstein. Thinking we can control everything is kind of our thing, and I really thought we'd end up in the maw of a huge and ferocious Tyrex.”

“The Misty virus kind of falls into that category,” Jongdae says. “It was most probably human-made.”

Sehun nods. “Yeah, so instead of having prehistoric jaws, we just have smaller ones,” he snorts. “That's too bad they're not really zombies though. With all the movies, shows and books, we were kind of prepared for that, we could have made it. But no, we had to go for the breathable and undetectable virus.”

Jongdae and Sehun exchange a look, and somehow, they both end up chuckling. Jongdae closes his eyes as he muffles his laugh in his palm, and it eases the burning sensation lingering in his swollen eyelids. Sehun leans down until his forehead settles on their hands, still tangled, as he keeps chuckling. It takes close to fifteen minutes to calm down, with all the times their eyes meet, which send them straight back into another fit of uncontrollable laughter. Sehun is the first one to take back control with a drawn-out sigh and pointy teeth flashing from between his lips as he wipes away the tears in his eyes. Jongdae lets go of his hand to do the same. There's the beginning of a headache thumping in the back of his mind, and his lungs still shake with every breath he takes, but the look Sehun throws him when he lets go of his hand makes it up for everything.

Jongdae sighs and runs his fingers in hair, pushing back the too long dark locks. He glances over his shoulder, the pale blue halo casted by the moon still engulfing Yeri's skeleton. He turns around again and finds Sehun's eyes already on him. 

“What now?” Jongdae finally asks.

“You could wait for me here while I go check the house.”

Jongdae seriously considers Sehun's proposition, but only for a split second. He slowly shakes his head with a faint smile. 

“Let's go together then,” Sehun concludes, with the same smile on his lips. 

He gets back up on his feet, and hands Jongdae his arm to help him up. His legs are wobbly under him, and he shifts on his feet, unsure. Sehun throws him a concerned look that Jongdae dismisses with another smile. 

“Let's go,” he says. 

Sehun nods and joins Jongdae as the latter turns around, finally facing the house. Sehun shifts on his right side so that, when they'll walk by Yeri's bones, Jongdae won't be the closest to them. He's grateful for the effort, but in the end, it doesn't help that much, especially since Sehun can't do anything about the bones filling his vision while they walk towards the house. Jongdae tries really hard to keep his eyes on the house, but the closer they get, the more details he catches. He soon realises that Yeri isn't the only lying on the concrete, and he remembers about the Infected he and Sehun killed. The realisation that the others have eaten them as well makes him gag, and on his right, Sehun looks away from the bones, wincing. 

The pale moonlight is even enough for Jongdae to make out the traces of teeth on the bigger bones, and it has him shrinking on himself, slowing down, until Sehun grabs his arm and forces him to keep walking. They finally walk past it, and all Jongdae can look at now is the huge and dark house.

It turns out he was right, and Jongdae is the first one surprised when they enter the living room and immediately stumble upon the gas bottle. He spends enough time with Luhan to know that the latter isn't the forgetful type yet, but the Chinese character scribbled on the bottle is way too obvious for Jongdae to doubt. It _is_ Luhan's bottle, but the fact that it's here, when Luhan is not, only tells about his eagerness to get revenge. Jongdae hardly feels guilty for Minseok anyway, not after what Luhan did to Yeri. He has half a mind to leave a note in case Luhan would have the brilliant idea to come back to get his gas bottle back, but quickly dismisses the thought. He wants Luhan as far away as possible than him, and provoking him would only make him, but also Sehun, Chanyeol and Baekhyun in danger.

“Okay, let's bring it back,” Sehun says. He glances at the sky through the window, but they still have a few hours of night. Walking back to the tree house will take them two hours though, and carrying the gas bottle will only slow them down. Sehun is right, they need to set off, now. 

They both crouch down and grab the bottle, Sehun the top and Jongdae the bottom. It's heavy, immediately weighing down on their muscles, but they see it as good news. The heavier, the fuller. They get out of the house, and walk back up the road, passing by what's left of Yeri for the second time. 

“Wait,” Jongdae suddenly says. 

Sehun throws him a questionning look, but he still lets Jongdae puts down the gas bottle. Upon seeing him walk towards the bones though, he frowns. 

“Jongdae,” he calls him out. 

Jongdae dismisses Sehun's worried tone with a light flick of the wrist. He tries hard not to stare at the broken skull lying on the concrete, the hole flashing him a black darker than the night around him, and hurries to the other body lying a few meters away. His machete is still between the ribs, and Jongdae grabs it, immediately pulling it back in his belt. When he walks back to Sehun, the latter is watching him with dark worried eyes. 

“You okay?”

Jongdae shakes his head, but he crouches down and grabs the bottom of the bottle anyway, waiting for Sehun to join him. 

“Let's go,” he says. 

Sehun gives him a short nod, and they go back to carrying the gas bottle on the road. They finally reach the forest, and that's when the tricky part actually starts. Avoiding branches and other sticks lying on the ground, as well as walking through the trees turns so much harder with the gas bottle. Not to mention the stiffness creeping in their arm muscles, little by little. They pause a few times, but time is running out, and they barely wait until they catch their breath to set off again. 

It feels like hours later -and it _is_ actually hours later- when they finally reach the familiar sight of the tree house. With a heavy groan, Sehun and Jongdae put down the gas bottle under the main house, and Sehun collapses on the ground, arms and legs wide opened. 

“Oh god,” he breathes out, his tongue darting out of his lips. “Oh god.”

He glances at Jongdae, who is still on his feet. 

“How are you still up?” he bemoans. 

Jongdae chuckles, trying very hard to hide how shaky and weak his legs are. 

“I guess you're the rusty one.”

Sehun snorts, grinning. He shifts on his butt, and finally uses the bottle to get back on his feet. 

“You know what?” he says. “Let's leave the bottle down there. Baekhyun and Chanyeol will pull it up, we did the hardest. All I want is to go to bed right now.”

Jongdae hesitates, for only for a split second. Who would come and steal the gas bottle anyway? And he can't deny how tired he is. They did it though, they brought back a gas bottle, and he can't regret the night. 

Sehun holds the ladder for him as he climbs up, and once on the patio, he lies down on his stomach to do the same for Sehun, at least until he reaches the top rungs. Sehun hauls himself, and wordlessly, they both bend down to catch the ladder and pull it up. Sehun leaves the rock on the edge of the patio, and they exchange a look, everything they did during the night finally taking its toll on them. 

“Can I come and sleep with you?” Sehun suddenly asks. 

Jongdae freezes. “Uh?”

“I don't want to sleep with Baek and Chanyeol anymore,” Sehun pouts. (He _pouts_.) “I always feel like I'm interrupting something.”

Jongdae chuckles. “Maybe that's because you are.” He snorts when Sehun gives him the puppy eyes and sighs. “Come with me, big baby.”

Sehun beams at him, and Jongdae can't help but grin back. They join the patio surrounding Sehun's room wordlessly, too exchausted to say anything, and quickly wash the sweat off their faces with the bowl of water left there. Jongdae catches white skin when Sehun puts some water under his shirt, directly on his torso, and he looks away. It had looked so pale compared to Sehun's arms, or his face, and now Jongdae can't quite let go of it. He wonders how Sehun's complexion really looks like when he doesn't spend his days up in the trees, jumping from branches to branches. 

Sehun is the first one to enter the room, and Jongdae follows suit. He closes the door behind him, Sehun having turned on the light, and he sits down on the blankets as Sehun undoes his belt and puts it aside. Jongdae mimicks him, taking both the gun and his machete out and hiding them under a blanket, on the far end of the room. The light suddenly sways behind his back, casting new shadows and stains of light on the wooden walls, and when he turns around, he finds Sehun sliding the vinyl on the same rope the flashlight is dangling off from. 

Sehun meets his eyes, and he gives him a warm smile. Jongdae finds himself unable to give back, his eyes refusing to leave Sehun's features, but Sehun doesn't seem to mind. He motions towards the blankets with a slight tilt of his head. 

“Lie down,” he tells Jongdae. “I'll turn off the light.”

Jongdae immediately obliges. He curls up on the blanket, the heat already rising stopping him from burying himself under, and he shuts his eyes. The light goes out behind his eyelids, faint orange disappearing, and Sehun lies down, the blankets ruffling as he tries to find the most comfortable position. 

Jongdae opens his eyes when silence comes back, only disrupted by both his and Sehun's breathing. His heart is beating loudly in his chest, andn his fingers itch with the need to palm the space behind him to know if Sehun is close or not. His smell, with a hint of sap is filling the room, filling Jongdae's nose, and the latter has to grab the blankets under him not to turn around and shift closer to Sehun. 

Something is happening, something that Jongdae shouldn't take lightly.

 

 

After the succes of the gas bottle mission, both Chanyeol and Baekhyun loosen a bit with Jongdae, which Jongdae considers as an already good reward, but Sehun seems to think that bragging about it, and teasing Chanyeol and Baekhyun is even better. Baekhyun's answers are always witty, bordering on indifference, but Chanyeol always jumps into the tricks that are Sehun's eyebrow twitches and smirks. His attention is drawn away from Jongdae as a sort of competition establishes itself beween him and Sehun, and both Jongdae and Baekhyun follow diligently. It comes to the point where Chanyeol brings back a piece of chalk and draws a thick line on the wooden floor of the food house. 

“Baek and I will put the stuff we get on the right side, you and Jongdae on the left. The team with the more supplies when winter comes will have the losing team cook for them everyday.” 

Sehun shakes Chanyeol's hand, full of confidence, and Baekhyun sighs, a sight so long and powerful that it has his long bangs flying up. Jongdae isn't comfortable enough with his new freedom to consider saying anything, so he just stands behind Sehun. 

In all honesty, he's all for the competition, because it means leaving the tree house with the sun setting down, and coming back with it rising, sometimes a couple of days later. He's not too fond of the danger, the adrenaline sometimes flooding his veins for hours until he feels like he's more made of reflexes and intense feelings than blood and steady heartbeat, but leaving the tree house has its pros. Sehun drags him through the woods, sometimes east, sometimes west, but always stopping here and there to point at platforms up in the trees. He makes sure Jongdae learns their exact positions, just in case, and soon enough, Jongdae is the one stopping Sehun and pointing at high trees, just for the sake of seeing the smile Sehun has for him every single time. Sehun also shows him the ATV they keep parked not far from the house, on a tiny road engulfed by wilderness just in case, with wide worried eyes.

The competition sounds like the most important thing Sehun has ever done, but he forgets it so easily when they step out of the tree house. They sometimes spend days just wandering and not bringing anything back while Chanyeol and Baekhyun -who actually turns to be a really competitive guy- cackle, piling their food supplies on their side of the room. That's how Jongdae finds out about the lake, a little over five minutes away from the tree house, and whose water is of a dark shade of green, hypnotizing and always in movement, like it's crawling towards the banks. He also learns about the cliff south from the tree house, the slope so sudden that losing your balance there could result in breaking your neck. The surrounding trees start to become familiar, until Jongdae finally doesn't need Sehun's hand to find his way back to the border of the woods anymore. When he tells Sehun though, the latter raises an eyebrow at him, and his fingers turn like claws around Jongdae's wrist, only letting go of his hands when they lie in their house, a few hours later. 

Sehun changes too, like Chanyeol and Baekhyun do, but in a very different way. When Chanyeol's changes can be summarized with strong taps on Jongdae's back and elbows digging into Jongdae's side when Chanyeol errupts into laughter, Sehun's are more discreet, but deeper. His fingers always reach out for Jongdae's, and he even starts to keep his hand slightly curled when they walk, as though matching with the thought only of Jongdae's hand against his. His smiles linger, his eyes are even more intense, and he spends most of his time turning around to look at Jongdae, instead of watching where he goes. Jongdae changes too, honestly. He catches Sehun's curling fingers, smiles back and watches him, especially when Sehun doesn't know he is. It's probably why he truly thinks that the competition is a good idea, actually, because it doesn't allow him to _think_. When Jongdae feels himself slipping off the edge, stumbling into dangerous and dark thoughts, he uses the competition as a shield, and it throws him right back into his focus. 

It's exactly what he's doing, as big drops of water crash on the tree house, and distant thunder rumbles in the horizon. Rather than thinking about how odd it feels moving around when Sehun doesn't share his personal space, Jongdae focuses on the supplies he's organizing on his and Sehun's side of the room. The piles are getting really high, on both sides of the room, but Jongdae has no idea if it will be enough. Baekhyun has told him about the previous winter, how hard it was, and how they felt like they were going to die several times, and he can't say he's really looking forward to it. At the same time though, he thinks about his own winter, spent in someone else's bed, with someone else's body climbing on top of him, and he's almost sure this winter will be warmer, in a way. 

Jongdae tries to move a pile of food, but something falls from the top, right between two piles. Frowning, he slips his arm in the very few inches of space and bends down, fingers searching until they finally close on something. Jongdae pulls it out, and can't help a smile to spread on his lips when his eyes land on the huge bag of honey chips he's holding. _I'll be praying every day those are still good_ Sehun had said, already licking his lips at the mere idea of shoving the chips in his mouth. 

“Daydreaming?” says a low voice behind him, jerking him out of his reverie. 

Jongdae startles, and the bag of chips falls to the floor again, only this time at his feet. He winces. Sehun will fully appreciate them even if they're reduced to crumbs, but still. 

“Oops, sorry,” Chanyeol says with an apologetic grimace. 

He walks further into the room as Jongdae picks up the bag for the second time in less than a minute.

“What are you doing here?” Jongdae asks him with a smile. “I thought you were picking berries with Baekhyun and Sehun.” When Chanyeol doesn't answer, looking a tad bit embarrassed, Jongdae narrows his eyes at him. “Did you come here to cheat? Sehun told me you might try, but I actually didn't think you _would_.”

“I won't cheat,” Chanyeol protests, frowning. “I'm here to talk to you.”

Jongdae freezes. Did he do something wrong? His mind immediately flies to Sehun, and even though he knows Chanyeol can't possibly reproach him anything about Sehun, Jongdae can't help but feel guilty. He eyes Chanyeol warrily, wondering if just like him, Chanyeol has seen the changes between him and Sehun, and decided they were dangerous, or something like that. Jongdae wouldn't blame him. He may be thinking the same thing though, he's not ready to face it yet. 

He squirms under Chanyeol's gaze, uncomfortable, and a crushing sound reminds him he's still holding the bag of chips. Mumbling a curse, he puts the crushed bag on a pile next to him. 

“Sehun told me about the gang that attacked your friends,” Chanyeol finally says, and as the first word leaves his mouth, his own uneasiness seems to fade away. His eyes are now strong on Jongdae, not harsh or cold, just very intense and overwhelming. 

Jongdae quickly leaves all analysis of Chanyeol's faces though, as betrayal washes over him. Sehun _wasn't_ supposed to tell anyone, even though Jongdae never actually required him not to. The fact that he thought it was kind of obvious makes Sehun telling Chanyeol even more painful. Why is Chanyeol mentionning that right now though, is a mystery, but Jongdae doesn't like it. He narrows his eyes at the taller man, on the defensive. Chanyeol can't reproach him anything, he better not dare talking about Yeri or Jongin. 

“What about them?” Jongdae snaps back, and his bitting tone seems to surprise Chanyeol a bit. 

He quickly comes back from his surprise though, and gives Jongdae a tiny shrug. 

“I'm sorry for your friends,” Chanyeol says. “But I just need to know... Do you think they were living in the area? I need to know if they're a threat for us.”

Chanyeol's sorry voice, and his questions take Jongdae by surprise. His eyebrows shoot up in confusion even though they were deeply furrowed the previous minutes, and he considers Chanyeol for a split second. Of course Luhan isn't living here, and Sehun knows it, he knows the whole story, so why is Chanyeol asking him that? The only reason Jongdae can think of is Sehun not actually telling Chanyeol everything. 

Jumping on the idea, Jongdae quickly enquires. “What did Sehun tell you exactly?” 

He doesn't like the idea of Sehun betraying what they shared and everything Jongdae told him. If he did, then did he say everything? From Jongdae sleeping with gang leaders to save his ass, to him getting both Jongin and Yeri killed? Chanyeol's random questions have made him unsure, teetering on the thin line between anger and relief, and Jongdae only wants one thing: to fall on the latter's side. 

Chanyeol seems to be taken aback by both the question and Jongdae's eyes narrowed at him, but he only shrugs again. 

“That you were with your friends, and you all got attacked. They killed one of your friends, and you lost the others in the panic.”

Jongdae stares at Chanyeol's face a few moments, eye scanning his features and trying to know if he's lying or not. In all honesty, despite how tough Chanyeol likes to appear, he's like a book, so easy to read and decipher, with his huge eyes and his lips always curling according to his feelings. Right now, Chanyeol looks confused, lost, and maybe a tad bit intimidated (which is flattering for Jongdae since Chanyeol looks like he could break him in two), but Jongdae doesn't see an ounce of lie on the taller man's face. If he's not lying then, why did Sehun go and tell him about that? 

Because they're a family, Jongdae realises. And because Sehun wanted to make sure Chanyeol and Baekhyun would be on their guard, just in case. He needed a real threat for that, and he simply went for the truth, but hiding it in thick layers of omissions. That's also why Chanyeol is questionning Jongdae about it, not because he's blaming him and judging him, but because he's worried for his friends, his _family_. 

Jongdae gives Chanyeol a faint smile, and finally shakes his head. 

“They didn't look like they were living in the area,” he tells him. “I'm almost sure they left, but we should still be careful, just in case.”

Now it's relief that is washing over Chanyeol's face, and Jongdae only then realises that he was fidgeting with his fingers before, obviously nervous about what Jongdae's answer would be. He finds himself wondering if Chanyeol was also worried about _him_ , or if it was just about Sehun and Baekhyun, but he quickly dismisses the though. It doesn't matter, it shouldn't matter. He feels safe here, and Baekhyun and Chanyeol's way to act around him, now friendly and warm, has a lot to do with it. Jongdae shouldn't be asking for more. 

“Thank you,” Chanyeol smiles at him. 

“Don't mention it,” Jongdae muffles. 

He turns around and grabs the bag of chips again, pretending to be considering where to put it when he's actually waiting for Chanyeol to step out of the room. But when the so desired footsteps still don't come, Jongdae looks over, frowning. 

Chanyeol is still there, hesitating. 

“I'm—I'm very sorry about your friends,” he says to Jongdae again. 

“I know,” Jongdae answers. “You told me already.”

Chanyeol nods. “That's because I really am.” He pauses. “Sorry for your friends, I mean. And you.”

Jongdae slowly nods. In all honesty, he's sorry too, but last time he thought about how sorry he was, it made him break, and he can't have that again. That's how the world works now, things are bound to get lost, to disappear between hungry jaws, and if you can't handle it, you're probably the next. That was what Jongdae used to mentally reproach Jongin and Yeri, that they weren't ready for the new rules, and he doesn't like to think he isn't as well. 

He turns around again, dismissing thought of Jongin and Yeri, and Seulgi and Soojung that were so ready they lost everything and kept breathing (or at least Jongdae really hopes so), and finally puts back the bag of chips on the first pile. He's aware of Chanyeol's eyes following his every gesture and digging through his nape, but he does his best to appear indifferent, until Chanyeol finally steps further into the room. 

“You know what?” Chanyeol asks with a cheerful voice that doesn't match with the heavy atmosphere and the worry flooding his eyes. “I'm gonna tidy my side up as well! I hope _you_ weren't planning on cheating.”

Jongdae watches him as Chanyeol walks to the first pile on his side of the room, and almost makes it all crumble down when he tries to move it. Jongdae clearly hears Baekhyun's sigh in his mind, the very same sigh he hears everytime Chanyeol messes up. It's funny, honestly, how both Baekhyun and Sehun seems to be under Chanyeol's orders, as if the latter was their leader even though he's sometimes so clumsy Jongdae wonders how he didn't end up nailed to the trees with the rest of the house. He did build the tree house though, with his bare hands, so Jongdae guesses it makes him the best choice for a leader. That, and how worried he is for his friends, how much he cares. And right now, Chanyeol is caring about _him_.

It forces a smile out of Jongdae. He watches Chanyeol's huge palms ruffling through the stack of food, and internally winces at the mess Chanyeol is making as he tries to tidy it all up. 

“We'll win fair and square,” Jongdae says with a smirk. “I don't need to cheat. You on the other hand...”

Chanyeol looks up, and when his eyes settle on Jongdae's, the latter makes sure to send him a softer smile, one that, he hopes, will say thank you better than he could ever do. Chanyeol gets the message, of course he does, because he slightly nods, grinning as well, and goes back to ruffling through the food. He has no idea how to tidy it up, Jongdae quickly realises, so he only pretends to. Jongdae lets him think he's tricking him though, because he's afraid that pointing him will leave Chanyeol without any excuse to stay with him, and Jongdae obviously doesn't want that. 

The bag of chips falling for the second time has Jongdae's mind wandering back to Sehun, and he suddenly realises how much Sehun knows about him. Back then, Jongdae would have considered every detail he handed Sehun like a weapon the latter could use against him, and that's exactly what he had thought he did when Chanyeol questioned him. Now, it's different though. Or maybe it isn't, but it couldn't be further from Jongdae's mind. All he can think about is how much Sehun knows about him, and how little _he_ knows about Sehun. 

More than frightening him, it actually makes him eager.

 

 

It's not until the sun is rising high above their head, while the darkness of the bedroom engulfes both Jongdae and Sehun, that the thought, lingering and hypnotizing, finally words itself in Jongdae's mind. He's been lying with his eyes wide opened at the shadow around them for a couple of hours, unable to find sleep, and from the lack of low and faint snores, he can tell Sehun is struggling as well. Jongdae knows all the reasons why _he_ could face insomnia, but he knows nothing about Sehun's. The room is large, large enough for both Jongdae and Sehun to sleep spread out on the blankets without touching each other, but with the realisation that Sehun is still awake comes the feeling that the walls are closing in on them. Jongdae turns his head on the right, where he knows Sehun is lying, and soon enough, the latter turns into a hypnotizing thought that Jongdae can't dismiss anymore. The world outside, the sun and the danger, it all suddenly doesn't matter anymore. All that matters are the few inches between him and Sehun. 

“Why did you enlist so early?” Jongdae says. 

Sehun's reaction is immediate. He chuckles, then shifts his position on the blankets with a faint ruffling sound. Jongdae feels his breath graze his neck, and he startles, surprised. He hadn't thought Sehun was that close.

“Why not?” Sehun answers. “It's not like I had better to do.”

Jongdae frowns, suddenly deeply regretting that the total absence of light prevents him from seeing Sehun's expression. He has half a mind to reach out for the flashlight but he quickly changes his mind. He can't help but think that the darkness makes it easier, for both him and Sehun. Jongdae does the maths, toys with Sehun's age until he comes to the conclusion that Sehun was only twenty years old when he enlisted. Jongdae himself had planned his military service to be around his twenty fifth birthday. He can think of a billion of things Sehun could have done instead of enrolling, and the biggest of them being, of course, going to university. 

“What about university?” Jongdae asks, pushing. Sehun's half confession about his former life made him way too curious to mind about limits. 

Sehun lets out a drawn out sigh that crashes against Jongdae's face, and forces a smile out of the latter. The darkness has made his senses sharper, and in the nothingness that surrounds him, it's so easy to catch tiny bits of Sehun, the most obvious one being the faint smell of sap that seems to be sticking to the latter's skin. 

“That's exactly what my parents asked me when I enlisted,” Sehun says. He pauses, then adds with a chuckling voice. “It sounds so laughable now, but back then I couldn't stand what they had planned for me. Taking over the family business, all that stuff... I enlisted to run away from them, and it worked so well actually that I never saw them again.”

Jongdae thinks about his own parents, so loving and supporting, screaming at the top of their lungs behind the bathroom door, and tearing their skin apart trying to break it with their heads. No doubt Sehun's parents have gone through the same thing, but Jongdae can't help but realise how different it all could have been with just a few details changing. What if Sehun had been home? Maybe his parents would have gotten to him. What if Jongdeok and Jongdae would have been in the kitchen, helping their mother instead of playing video games? They didn't survive to the apocalypse by being skillfull and clever, it was mostly about luck back then. It's a strange game of circumstances that brought both he and Sehun right there, in the tree house. 

“Do you think they were immune?” Jongdae asks. 

Sehun doesn't answer, but the ruffling sound is enough of an answer. He's furiously shaking his head, and he's probably right, but it doesn't make it any less sad. Jongin, Jongdae suddenly thinks, would have shrugged, he would have said something stupid and useless along the lines of _hope is still allowed_ as if he truly believed that hope _was_ allowed. They may be sharing the same birth year, but Sehun and Jongin couldn't have been any more different. 

“What about you?” Sehun says. His voice doesn't falter. Actually, he sounds like he almost always does. Jongdae has come to understand that it's because Sehun comes to terms with the current world more easily than he does. 

“Did you have a job or something?” Sehun goes on. 

“Yeah, I was a barman in a fancy club,” Jongdae answers with a smile. “The day it happened though, I was in my parents' house though. We were supposed to have a big family reunion dinner.”

“Oh, you had your own place?” Sehun whistles. “So grown-up!”

Jongdae snorts. 

“Yeah, and I could open the fridge with my ass still on the bed, very grown-up indeed.”

Sehun chuckles, and Jongdae loses himself in memories, his own lips streched in a wide grin. It wasn't much of an appartment, but it was his very first home, and he was terribly proud. 

“Tell me more,” Sehun asks him in a laughing voice. “What did you usually do on Saturday nights?”

Jongdae finally lets go of the darkness above him to look on his right, right where he knows Sehun is. It's as pitched-black as the void over his head, but in the game of shadows he thinks he sees, he's convinced he manages to catch some of Sehun's features. He can picture the latter's grin so well, his pointy canines and the lines it has drawn on the corner of his eyes, and the thought only manages to force another wide smile out of Jongdae. 

“I was a _barman_ ” he says with a mocking tone. “On Saturday nights, I was working.” 

“What about the other nights? Were you more into wild nights out or cosy and peaceful nights with your TV?”

“Nights out, but not wild. I liked noraebangs.”

“Oh, I see,” Sehun says. Jongdae feels his lips stretch even wider. He knows Sehun is nodding, true to his habit. “You were that kind of guy.”

Jongdae chuckles. He palms in the darkness, until his fingers finally reach Sehun's arm, and then he playfully shoves him. His eyes are still settled on the dark where he knows Sehun's face is, but he's not even aware he doesn't actually see him anymore, for they shared enough conversations for Jongdae to know by heart how expressions and feelings spread out on Sehun's face. That smug tone, the laughter behind his words, this is were Sehun is the most beautiful to Jongdae; when his eyes are fleeting, or at least trying to, to match with the joke, but they actually keep coming back to Jongdae's face, lingering and always so intense. 

Jongdae reaches out, a weigh suddenly crushing his heart. When his fingers settle on Sehun's wrist, they clench around it like claws. In the void around them, it's so easy for him to hear Sehun's breath hitch. 

“What about you?” Jongdae asks. “What did you usually do?”

Sehun doesn't answer right away, but the silence isn't crushing. Jongdae uses it well as he paints Sehun's face over his retinas, and the smile probably stretching his lips right now. 

“I was more of a video game dude, to be honest. I didn't have much friends.”

Jongdae chuckles. “Look where playing League of Legend got you.”

“Man, I really liked LOL,” Sehun sighs, wistfully.

Jongdae snorts, smiling so hard that his jaws almost hurt. Silence settles between him and Sehun, but it's a fragile and full of expectation one. Something is coming their way, but it's definitely not sleep. 

Sehun shifts on the blankets, wriggling his wrist out of Jongdae's fingers, only to replace it by his own. They lack in synchronization, and as they try to link them, both their index fingers crash while the others successfully intertwine. Sehun's fingertip slide down along Jongdae's index, and then up, his touch light but so overwhelming. Jongdae closes his eyes, his heart beating erratically in his chest. 

“What did you like the most? Coffee or tea?” Sehun asks in a whisper. 

“Coffee,” Jongdae says. “But only americano. I used to go through most of my days pumped up on caffeine, especially after long shifts.”

Sehun's finger catches in the lines marking Jongdae's phalanges, and it slowly follows them until it's on the other side of Jongdae's finger. Sehun explores this new side thoroughly, finally ending on Jongdae's nail. 

“How about you?” Jongdae says, smiling to the emptiness. 

“Tea. Coffee's smell is really... ugh.”

Jongdae chuckles. 

“Pizza or hamburger?” Sehun continues. 

“Hamburger. You?”

“Same. But the best is defintely pizza _and_ hamburger.”

Jongdae snorts, rolling on his side to muffle his laughter on the blanket. His movement presses both his and Sehun's hands, still tightly linked, on the blankets, right under his hipbone. Sehun's body follows instinctively his, and he rolls as well, his shoulder soon bumping into Jongdae's and his free hand curling on Jongdae's nape. 

“Sweet or savory snacks?” Sehun asks, his breath even hotter now that it's only a few inches away from Jongdae's temple. 

“Savory,” Jongdae answers. He feels somehow so distant from the world, so distant from everything, except from Sehun. “Unless it's chocolate. Chocolate wins everything.”

“It does,” Sehun nods. His chin hits Jongdae's head. “Oops, sorry.”

Jongdae chuckles. His and Sehun's hands are still under his hipbone, digging painfully into the thin flesh there, but Jongdae wouldn't move for the world. He breathes in, the oxygen now leaving a strong taste of sap on the tip of his tongue, and asks, in a low voice, _cats or dogs?_. Sehun answers with a just as low _puppies and kittens_ , and it goes on and on, from the most crucial questions ( _Favorite singer or bands?_ ), to the most derisory ones ( _Caps or beanies?_ ). Jongdae asks, sometimes it's Sehun, but they both answer everytime, and Jongdae's mind, although tired, eagerly feeds on every tiny detail. 

Hours pass by, leaving Jongdae's arm, still under them, numb and cold. Sehun's hand is still curling on his nape, and Sehun's breath keeps fanning over his forehead. They've stopped talking though, both too tired to gather the strength to open their mouths, but silence doesn't feel heavy at all. Outside, the world is slowly getting ready for the night taking over the far end of the sky, and they only know it because of the noises Baekhyun and Chanyeol make as they wake up and get ready for another raid. 

“What do you think of staying and just sleeping?” Sehun mumbles, barely understandable. 

Jongdae slowly nods. He can't even remember if his eyes are closed or not, but blinking to check sounds so hard right now, so useless. He could just sleep with his eyes opened, it's as dark in the room as on the back of his eyelids. 

“I'm saying it's a great idea,” he says. “Let's give them a day of lead, it'll make the competition fairer.”

Sehun chuckles, the sound broken and almost immediately dying down in the back of his throat. He snuggles closer to Jongdae, who lets him finally pull out their hands to bring them on the blankets between their chests. His breathing then slows down, curling against Jongdae's forehead in longer, slower, and somehow soothing, exhalations. They're the last push Jongdae needed to fall into a deep slumber, and they lull him to sleep so well that not even a last thought can shape itself in his mind. 

 

 

“Come on, Sehun, there's nothing here,” Jongdae whines. 

Sehun doesn't even spare him a glance as he opens the drawers of a very large desk, his gesture sharp and hasty. It's the second room he's turned upside down, not to mention the whole first floor, even though both their bags, that Jongdae is carrying with difficulty, are full to the breaking point. They've gathered all the food that still can be eaten, and even a few other useful things, but Sehun was very intent in going through _all_ the rooms again, a very different treasure in mind. 

“Sehun,” Jongdae says againn standing on the threshold of the room. “This is ridiculous, look at those posters, it was obviously a teenager's room, do you really they would have a vinyl player in their room?”

Sehun opens the last drawer with too much strength, and it falls at his feet, with everything that was inside—mostly pens and sheets of papers. He looks down at the mess and gives a light kick at one of the pencil that flies across the room. He looks like a kid that has been trying to find the Christmas presents for the whole day to finally admit his failure, and Jongdae can't help a light chuckle. 

“Did _you_ have a vinyl player?” he asks. 

Sehun glances at him, through long bangs. He shakes his head, slightly pouting. 

“How it is that you think everyone had one, then?” Jongdae teases, which has Sehun straightening to glare at him. 

“It's called _hope_ , you heartless man.”

Jongdae shrugs, Sehun's tentative at cursing him only making his smile grow wider. Sehun deflates and throws one last look at the room. He then turns on his heels and walks back to Jongdae, immediately bending down to take back his bag. 

“I just want to hear the end of the song,” he confesses in a whisper-like voice. 

Jongdae nods with a little smile, putting his own bag on his back. 

“I know. Me too.”

They exchange a long look, and Jongdae knows that, just like him, Sehun is thinking about the Italian song, trying to remember the exact intonations, how the voice sounded and the smooth guitar notes that went along with it. It's now a blurry memory, still not far enough to drown in detached indifference though, and in all honesty, Jongdae doubts it one day will be. 

“There are computers in every house we go through,” Sehun says. Jongdae nods, questioning. “It's so frustrating, I wish I could turn them on and check the lyrics, and then go on Youtube and--”

“We're in China, Sehun,” Jongdae interrupts him with a little smile. “No Youtube here.”

Sehun throws him a surprised glance, taken aback. Jongdae's words seem to take a little time to register in his mind, but when they do, Sehun lets out a chuckle that has his eyes turning into sparkling crescents. 

“You're right,” he says, nodding like he always does, most of the time for himself. With another smile for Jongdae, he puts his hand on the small of the latter's back and motions towards the stairs with a light tilt of the head. “Let's get back home.”

Jongdae nods, sliding his own hand down to his machete, finger following the handle instinctively. He feels the weight of the gun against his opposite hipbone, and a glance behind him tells him Sehun's own weapons are still right where they should be, in his belt. Sehun catches his gaze, and the smile on his lips only widens, but he doesn't say anything, instead wordlessly guiding Jongdae on the first few steps down the stairs. Jongdae allows himself a smile as well, before effortlessly going back to scanning the heavy silence around them. 

Sehun never disrupts the silence, like Jongin did as if it was nothing. Sehun knows how important it is to be able to catch the things that are not so silent, unlike Yeri, who thought silence was made to be filled by words. It's what makes leaving to hunt with Sehun so easy, because it's like being alone, and Jongdae has only felt safe when he was alone, when there was nothing but him to look for, nothing but his life that could be lost. In a way, it's like Sehun wasn't even here when it's actually very, _very_ different. 

The fifth step down the stairs crack under Jongdae's sole, and they both startle, instinctively bending their knees, eyes wide opened at the darkness around them. Jongdae catches terrifying shadows playing along the windows of the living room, but because they've searched thoroughly the room when they entered the house earlier, he knows it's nothing more than branches slipping through the holes in the window, and leaves pressing against the glass, like ghost faces. Jongdae allows himself to breath again. He glances at Sehun over his shoulder, and catches the latter with a hand on his gun. They exchange a look that relaxes both of them. Sehun nods, and motions towards the door again. Jongdae wordlessly agrees before they finally both stand up again. 

The next noise is very different from the step cracking under their weights. Considering that they haven't moved yet, they both know they didn't make _that_ sound. Just like they know that the crispy sound comes from outside the house, from the very same gravels they had to walk on to reach the front door of the house. 

Sehun's hand immediately lets go of his gun, and shoots straight at the handle of Jongdae's bag. He grabs it, and drags Jongdae backwards. He pulls so hard that Jongdae almost loses his balance, bitting down a curse, but he manages to get back on his feet. He follows Sehun up the stairs, as voices echo on the patio. 

“That house looks fine, doesn't it? We could stay here for a few days, just to get a little rest,” someone says. 

Jongdae and Sehun both freeze in the hallway as the front door opens downstairs. They spent just enough time in the house to know that only their feet can be seen from the threshold, and although it can easily be missed, if they move now, the movement could attract unwanted eyes on them. Sehun looks down at Jongdae, fear hardly taking over his features, and Jongdae holds his gaze with a strong and overwhelming calm. They both close their fingers around the handle of their guns, calming down their breathing hard-hit by the adrenaline still flooding their veins. 

“What if the house is already taken?” another voice says downstairs. Jongdae is so tempted to look down, to try and catch the positions of those they might have to kill sooner or later, but Sehun's eyes, dark and so strong, hold him. 

Someone chuckles, and it's enough of an answer for Jongdae. They'll have to kill to save their lives, because that laugh was not teasing or amused, it was cold and pumped on cruelty, as if its owner didn't think that the end of the world could be applied to him the same way it's applied to others. With a frown, Sehun draws out his gun, slowly, as silently as he can, and Jongdae mimicks him, taking in a long breath. 

“Then I'll kill them and take what they have,” the first man says. 

“Sounds fine to me,” the second man chuckles. Another one joins him, and Jongdae realises they're outnumbered. From what they've heard so far, they are three of them. And there could be even more. 

“Okay, so—hey! What was that?!”

Both Sehun and Jongdae don't wait to know what it was exactly, because the sudden exclamation has the man already in the house drawing back on the patio. Jongdae grabs Sehun's hand just as the latter makes to take his, and they both dart off towards what probably was the parents' room. Sehun heads straight towards the balcony while Jongdae stops in the middle of the room, turns on his heels and aims at the door. Behind his back, Sehun inspects the balcony, and when Jongdae glances over his shoulder two seconds later, Sehun has disappeared. 

Jongdae takes another look at the door, his gun still between him and the black square opening on the hallway. He takes a first tentative step back, and finally turns around, straight to the balcony, when nothing happens. Whatever has held the men back, it probably won't keep them for long, and Jongdae knows better than to linger.

Now on the balcony, he looks around, and can't help a smile when he sees Sehun, crouched down on the roof ending in a soft slope just next to the railing. Sehun winks at him and holds his hand out. Jongdae doesn't even hesitate as he walks with long strides to the railing. He throws his body upwards to take Sehun's hand and puts his foot on the railing at the same time. Sehun flashes him a wide smile as his fingers close on Jongdae's fingers, and he pulls him up, helping him on the roof. Now back at sharing the same space, their eyes catch again, and despite the urgency of the situation, Sehun's turn into crescents again. He presses a finger against his lips, and tightens his hold on Jongdae's hand. Jongdae looks over his shoulder to see the men - _they're five, fuck_ -, still on the gravels. Three of them are searching through the thick thickets, while the others watch them from afar, their guns aiming at the same thickets. They're heavily weaponed, Jongdae immediately notices. If they were to fight, he and Sehun against them, he wouldn't bet on their side. He grimaces, following Sehun now dragging him up the roof. When they get there, they both carefully step on the other side, where the roof keeps going in another slope, pointing towards the opposite direction. Exchanging another look, Sehun and Jongdae lie down on the tiles. The night, although more grey than pitched-black tonight because of the round moon above their heads, should be enough to help them hide. They'll probably have to wait for the sun to rise to go back to the three house, which will be dangerous and risky, but they can make it. They made it before. 

“What are they looking for...?” Sehun whispers, so low that it almost gets lost in the few inches between him and Jongdae. 

Jongdae slowly shrugs. He takes a quick peek above the tiles to see that the men are still searching through the dense and invasive vegetation. What did they see, indeed? An animal maybe? But are they really expecting it to still be there with the commotion of their intense searching session? Jongdae finds himself intrigued, curiosity, once again, taking the best of him, and he sticks his head a little more, squinting his eyes at the trees around the house. 

“Are you sure you saw a face?” one of the men asks, and another one, the one who searches with the most franctic gestures, furiously nods.

“There was someone watching us!” he retorts. “Right here!”

He points towards a particularly high and dense bush. Jongdae can't be sure from where he is, and with shadows playing in field of vision, but from the look of it, the bush looks large enough to hide a man. He glances at Sehun, who is also frowning at the scene down there, and tries not to worry. He just hopes they won't be caught in the crossfires between two gangs. 

A cold shudder curling down his spine, Jongdae squints harder at the bush the man has pointed, eyes going a little higher between each blink, as he tries to see what has scared the intruder. He thinks he sees something between two trees, a fleeting movement that only leaves a branch slightly swaying in the still air. Jongdae holds his breath, propping himself up on his elbows, leaning forward without noticing, his eyes glued to the branch. His heart is beating erratically is his chest, jumping up his throat with every beat, and cold sweat is now covering his forehead. There's something down there, he would bet his life on it, but he can't see what--

Jongdae lets out a sudden gasp as a dirty face pops up between the branches, yellowish and blod-shot eyes looking straight at him. The moon makes the pus on the face darker than it is, and the foam sliding on the chin from between the two gnawed lips appears white, like sea foam, although not as pure. It's gone in a split second though, and Jongdae's gasp ends in a terrified whimper. He would recognize that face in less than a heartbeat. 

“On the roof!” one of the men screams, pointing at Jongdae. “On the roof!”

He immediately aims and shoots, but Sehun's is quicker. He grabs Jongdae's belt and pulls him down before the bullet even hits the tiles. 

“Fuck,” Sehun curses. 

He turns around and sits to slide down the tiles, helping and securing his descent with his palms, and Jongdae follows, more out of instinct than by real need. He feels frozen and numb, bile filling his mouth. It _can't_ be. He must have dreamed, he must have mistaken an owl for the face of the alpha, and its terrifying accuracy was only due to the number of times it has popped up in Jongdae's dream. They're so far from the city where Jongin died, and Infected don't usually travel. They form a pack, they build a nest, and they stay there, unless there's a big slaughter, like the one in Lyushunkou. Yeri's death wouldn't have been enough. It couldn't have been the alpha, it couldn't have been the--

“Jongdae!” Sehun hisses, and Jongdae blinks, only then realising he's still sitting on the edge of the roof, legs dangling off the edge. Sehun is watching him with big eyes. “The gutter, Jongdae!”

Jongdae nods, immediately turning around to put both his feet on each side of the gutter first to secure his position. While he slides down, Sehun runs to the corner of the wall, but he immediately retreats with a jump, and another gunshot slices the night. Sehun puts the tip of his gun past the corner and shots, not even taking the time to aim. He's only trying to slow down the men, buying he and Jongdae some time so they can run straight into the woods. A confrontation wouldn't end well for them. 

Jongdae jumps off the gutter, landing in the high grass. 

“Sehun!” he calls him out. 

Sehun nods and turns around, dashing off. Jongdae follows suit, shooting over his shoulder two times to make sure the men will stay under cover a few precious seconds more, until he and Sehun runs between the trees. Ahead of him, Sehun has put back his gun in his belt, and replaced it with his bow. There's an arrow already nocked in, Sehun's fingers blocking its tail as he draws his bow and jumps over a bundle of roots. He finally stops dead in his track, for barely a split second, but it's enough for him to aim and shoot. The arrow flies away with a low whistle, and Sehun has set off again before it hits its target. Because it does hit its target. Jongdae didn't doubt it, that's why _he_ didn't stop running, so when he reaches the huge cryptomeria tree a few steps ahead, the rope ladder is already unfolding between the branches. Its bottom lands on the ground with a soft thud, and Jongdae doesn't wait until it has stopped swaying to jump on it. He climbs up the first rungs, the shoots of the men behind making him speed up even more, so much that the ladder's rocking get dangerous, his knuckles brushing against the trunk a few times. He was expecting both his and Sehun's weights to stabilize the ladder, but it obviously doesn't happen. 

Jongdae throws a look over his shoulder to check on Sehun, but his blood turns into ice when he doesn't see anything else than the swaying rungs under him. His breath dies down in the back of his throat, and the rising panic in his chest keeps it there, suffocating him. Jongdae furiously squints his eyes at the ground under him, heart beating loudly against his ribcage. 

“Sehun...?” he whispers, but he doesn't hear anything else than the men running straight into the woods, and screaming at each others directions and orders. Jongdae bites back a whimper, his fingers clenching on the rungs. 

“Sehun...” he says again, his voice breaking down. He feels so scared, frozen on the spot, like all those fears he felt before were nothing compared to that. Did the alpha catch Sehun...? Running through the trees had helped him get a grip on himself, and he had realised that with the darkness, and the branches, he couldn't be sure of what he saw, but now...?

Mentally shaking himself, Jongdae swallows down the overwhelming fear and determinedly starts going down the rungs. There was no Infected, what he saw was only moonlight playing in the leaves, which means Sehun is still down there. The men are getting closer as they search every thicket and bush so Jongdae needs to be quick. Sehun may have fell, and with the intruders that close, he couldn't scream for Jongdae to help him. Urgence washes over Jongdae as he hurries down a few rungs. 

An arrow suddenly burries itself in the trunk, its tail grazing Jongdae's fingers. The latter immediately stops, and turns as much as he can on the ladder, retracing with his eyes the arrow's trajectory. Relief washes over him when he spots Sehun up in a tree, his back against the large trunk and his bow lowered. He raises a hand towards Jongdae and gestures him to keep climbing, pressing. Jongdae winces when he realises two of the men are not even two trees from him, still searching through the vegetation with their guns secured in their hands. He glances at the platform above his head. He'll never make it, and hurrying to get there could be too noisy. 

Jongdae mentally curses as he pulls out his machete and crouches down on the ladder, securing his position with his left hand. His muscles burn as he stretches down his arm holding the machete, until the blade catches a rung under him. Jongdae pulls on it, straightening up on the ladder, and bites the rung he pulled up so that he can safely replace the machete in his belt. He then takes the rung in his hand and pulls up the rest of the ladder under him, gathering it against his chest. He only has to hope that darkness and the leaves arround him will be enough to hide him if the men suddenly decide to look up. It's a chance, honestly, that fall is still a few days later, because without the dense foliage, he would have been spotted so easily. The same can be applied to Sehun, who despite having climbed up a tree, hasn't gone that high, just like Jongdae.

“They're probably far now,” one of the men says under him, and Jongdae closes his eyes. 

“No,” the other answers. The intonations are cold, angry. Jongdae is almost sure he's the one who laughed. “We would have heard them run through the forest if they had kept going. I'm sure they're hidden somewhere.”

“Maybe, but with how dark it is, we won't find them...”

The other man sigh, and Jongdae hears some ruffling, followed by a sudden thud, as though something had been thrown against the trunk, that has him startling. He almost drops the ladder, but quickly secures it between his chest and the trunk. The sharp gesture has the ladder sway. It rubs against the trunk, slightly, barely, but in the silence around them, it could have might as well been a detonation. Jongdae opens his eyes, mentally cursing. 

“Did you hear that?” 

Jongdae looks down, his heart jumping up his throat. He can't do much with how he's situated. He needs to hold onto the ladder, and his other arm is busy keeping the rest of said ladder to fall down again. His body is pressing against the trunk, his weapons digging into his flesh, right there, but frustratingly out of reach. Taking one would mean falling for Jongdae, and most surely _bleeding_. 

He glances over his shoulder as the men are now searching through the bushes around the bottom of his tree's trunk. _Please don't look up,_ he thinks, like a mantra. _Don't look up, don't look up._ But the fear flooding his veins is nothing compared to what seizes him when he sees Sehun hoping on his branch, almost running to its tip, where it's so thin that it could break any minute. Jondgae wants to scream at him. What the fuck is he doing? He should be against the trunk, hiding in the dark instead of coming out of the foliage, _what the fuck is he--_

Jongdae freezes when Sehun finally stops, his feet firmly planted on the branch. The moon is lighting up his whole face now, silver against the darkness of his hair, the sharpness of his eyebrows, and the cold determination in his eyes. Terrified, Jongdae watches him dive a firm hand in the quiver and pulls out two arrows that he nocks immediately, one above the other. He stretches his bow and aims at the men, and Jongdae mentally whimpers. Sehun is taking too much risk for him, he should still be hidding, he shouldn't be ready to shoot, not with more men on their trails. Sehun knows better, he's a careful and smart man, but there's something different about him this time. His eyes are fixated on the men, determined, angry, and with the moonlight engulfing him, Jongdae can even spot the vein popping out along his neckline, and his jaws clenched hard. 

One of the men turn on his heels, squinting his eyes at the trunk of Sehun's tree. 

“Didn't it come from there?” he asks, and the other straightens, pulling his head out of the bush he's been searching through. They exchange a look, and he shrugs before they both walk to Sehun's tree. 

Jongdae's heart is now pumping ice through his whole body as he desperatly tries to turn around. If one them glances up, Sehun is done, that's all it would take. A mindless, single look up. Terrified, Jongdae grabs the ladder with his second hand, the one already busy holding the rest of the ladder against his chest, which means he can only curl three fingers around the rope to secure himself. The effort has him shaking as he draws out his gun and aims at the men, half turned around. His fingers are burning against the rope, his muscles throbbing with pain as he tries to maintain his hold, but Jongdae doesn't move, determined to be the first one to shoot if the men spot Sehun. 

One of the intruders sigh. 

“I think you were right, they're gone...” The other keeps silence, so the man sighs again. “It was a good house, dammit. We can't stay here now, we need to find another one.”

“Yeah,” the other finally mumbles. “It sucks.”

Jongdae doesn't dare to move even as the men walk away, stopping to kick in a bush here and there. He follows them with the tip of his gun as much as he can, until he can't possibly turn around more without falling off the ladder, and only then does he lower his arm. He glances over his shoulder to see Sehun lower his bow as well. They exchange a look over the few leaves and branches. Moonlight is still showering Sehun in silver, erasing imperfections on his face and giving his tanned skin a pure-looking halo. Jongdae can even spot the freckles, like tiny specks of gold following the bridge of Sehun's nose and spreading under his eyes, merging with the intense look he's giving Jongdae. Jongdae's body suddenly aches with want, and need, but he can't move, pinned on the spot by Sehun's eyes. Sehun pulls the arrows back into his quiver, never leaving Jongdae's face even a split second. 

The men's voices have faded into the silence, and the forest is falling back to its usual peacefulness when Jongdae finally closes his parted lips and looks away. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, and lets go of the lower part of the ladder, the rungs unfolding until they reach the ground. Jondgae then grabs the arrow Sehun has shot on the trunk earlier, and pulls it out. Keeping it safe between his curled fingers, he starts going down the ladder, speeding up as he catches faint cracks behind him that tell him Sehun is also making his way down to the ground. Growing impatient with each rung, Jongdae finally jumps off the ladder when he reaches the last two meters. He lands with a soft thud, the thick moss under his soles muffling the sound. He turns around just when Sehun makes it to the ground as well, and he immediately looks over to Jongdae. Jondgae adjusts his bag on his back, his whole body, especially his arms, hurting with the amount of effort he had to use to hold on the ladder while the men were there, but it honestly doesn't matter as he walks to Sehun, the latter heading towards him as well. 

They meet halfway, their arms opening and then closing around the other. Jongdae is tightening his hold on the arrow so much that he fears he might break it, but he doesn't seem to be able to loosen his grip. Sehun's fingers bury themselves in his hair, his other hand curling against the small of Jongdae's back, as Jongdae clenches his own fists against Sehun's back, the soft smell of sap filling his nose. He can hear Sehun's heart, beating so fast and so hard in his chest, and his own seems to answer with an equal intensity. He clenches his fists a little harder, and Sehun shifts in his arms, leaning down so he can bury his face in the crook of Jongdae's neck, and Jongdae presses his own against Sehun's collarbone. 

It's so obvious now, he realises. So, so obvious. Things aren't changing anymore, _he and Sehun_ aren't changing, because they've _already_ changed. It's done, and they're already on the other side.

 

 

Sehun's body feels so good, so good against him, much better than space, air and darkness. Jondgae lets Sehun effortlessly fit into his every curves, seize the space around him while Sehun hugs him closer, and closer as he falls asleep. It's the first time the room seems so small around Jongdae, so suffocating. He's missing air, missing space, but Sehun feels too good against him, and Jongdae can't push him away. His body burns, and everywhere Sehun has touched him while they were walking back to the tree house is now itching, so much that Jongdae, although unable to check, is pretty sure he has angry red patches of skin popping up on his body. Sehun's low snores vibrate against his throat, and his hair grazes Jongdae's cheekbone. He wants to let go so much, he wants to pull away from Sehun's body, but Jongdae is caught in a paradox where holding Sehun against him is also the thing he desires the most. He cannot breath with Sehun's ribcage weighing on his lungs, and it scares him, it scares him so fucking much. 

Tears are gathering in his eyes, and oxygen is rotting in the back of his throat. Jongdae can't help but think about Jongdeok taking their father's razor and biting back his tears. He had forced Jongdae to go into the bathtube to protect him before opening the door and taking care of their parents. Jongdeok saved them both, but three weeks later, Jongdae was holding him under water. _I won't bleed_ Jongdeok had said, _it's safer for you, but you have to help me, Dae._ And Jongdae did. Just like he let go of Jongin's hands because the plastic cracking. Jongin, with his dancing gait and his boyish looks. He was so soft, so nice, so... precious, and Jongdae was supposed to bring him back to his friends. They were biting his legs, licking the blood dripping down his ankles, and Jongin was terrified, but Jongdae looked at him in the eyes, and he let go. And then it's all about mistakes Jongdae is trying so hard to make amend for, but it doesn't work, of course it doesn't. 

He lets out a broken whimper as his eyes, staring at the dark before him, fill with vision of Yeri running, running, and then falling. She was dead before he even reached her, her brain splattered on the concrete. It took her years to build herself, to decide what her favorite color was, years to grow her hair, and start to love her body. It took less than a second for everything that she was to collapse, to stop moving, and never move again. Yeri was running, and then she was falling. Gone in the blink of an eye. 

Jongdae holds Sehun's closer even though it hurts, it hurts so fucking much. He was supposed to know better, he was supposed to have learned how it always ends. He has no idea how it happened, but it did, and now, all he can think about is Sehun, and how much he cares, how much he wants him to stay alive. He's honestly so grateful Sehun has fell into a deep slumber, because Jongdae can hardly muffle the broken sobs going past his lips now. He would love to reach out and turn the flashlight on, because he can't have enough of Sehun, even though the latter is taking his breath away. He doesn't want him to wake up though, so he'll have to do with his fingers running through Sehun's hair, following his jawline and clenching on his shoulder blades. 

Jongdae is so scared, but he knows what to do. He doesn't want to do it, and it's why he's crying so hard right now, white spots filling his vision, but he _has_ to do it. 

 

 

Jongdae wakes up, his eyes swollen by tears he probably cried even during his sleep. Last time he let himself go that far was after Jongdeok's death, and even though it feels like ages ago, Jongdae's whole body hurts as if he had closed his brother's eyes the day before. He's so exchausted, so tired of it all, and for a few seconds, he allows himself to pretend that the darkness around him means that he's finally gone, he's finally dead and everything has ended. 

Sehun's body is still pressed against his, but this time, it's Jongdae lying on the top, or at least, partly. He has a leg thrown over Sehun's thighs and his arm stretched on the latter's chest. The sweet scent of sap is still filling his nose, Sehun's natural smell lurking under it, so much that Jongdae feels it ghosting the tip of his tongue. His eyes still closed, he shifts closer to Sehun, smiling to the void when his nose brush against a strand of air. Sehun is still fast asleep, the slow rise of his chest making his ribs press against his skin, and dig into Jongdae's arm. His body is warm, pliant, and way more relaxed that when Sehun is awake. It's not that he's tense, he just has a way to move, to stand, that turns him into slender and straight lines, but when he's asleep, he's all curves and soft positions. 

Jongdae bites his lower lip as he slides his hand up to Sehun's neck. He follows the smooth skin until his fingers reach Sehun's jawline, and he stops them there, his fingertips prickling and aching for more. He needs to move now, before Sehun slowly comes back to himself. He lets out a faint sight and presses his forehead against Sehun's temple. He has to move, he has to move _now_.

Jongdae finally pulls away. He grabs a blanket and pulls it over Sehun's body, then walks on all fours towards the door, out of habit. He gets out on his hands and knees and quickly closes the door behind him. The day has fallen into the greyish atmosphere that comes with dusk, and the thick clouds covering the sky makes the luminosity dimmer than what Jongdae had expected but he doesn't want to take any risk anyway. Sehun needs to sleep a few more hours for his plan to work. 

Jongdae takes in a long breath, his eyes sliding over the surroundings, the rope ladders on the branches, and the other three houses, merging so well with the trees they're perched up on. It smells like sap here too, and leaves, and everything that make woods a good place to daydream. Jongdae smiles. It is, after all, a good place to live through the end of the world. 

He checks the door behind him one more time, and finally tiptoes on the patio, then down the stairs, and straight into the main house. Both he and Sehun left their bags there when they came home after their adventures the night before, the emotions still taking their tolls on them so they didn't bother to unpack. It turns out way more convenient than it should have been. When Jongdae opens the door though, he freezes as Baekhyun, standing in the middle of the room, turns around, surprised. 

“Oh!” Baekhyun stutters. “Al-already awake?” 

He blushes, and it's only then that Jongdae notices the plank he's holding with what is the closest to a breakfast they can have these days (which means fruits and snacks) carefully put on it. He's standing close to the other door on the back on the room, the one that leads to a sort of bridge, which is the only way to reach Baekhyun and Chanyeol's room. Jongdae can't help but smile, not because he's mocking Baekhyun, but because it goes so well with the whole tree house thing. It's six or seven meters high above the ground, but sometimes, Jongdae feels like it's just enough to escape from the madness ruling down there. 

“Hi,” he tells Baekhyun with a warm smile.

Baekhyun stares at him, his nose scrunched up with defy, and something warm and overwhelming floods Jongdae. He chuckles. Baekhyun is so quick to let people forget about him, using his height and his skinny body to disappear in dark corners, but he's far from being as harmless as one could think. Chanyeol might the leader, sort of, Baekhyun is definitely the strongest of the two. Jongdae will miss him, and the way he so easily makes Sehun and Chanyeol do everything he wants. 

“Hello?” Baekhyun asks in a tentative voice. He watches Jongdae with a frown, and finally gestures to the plank he's holding. “Please, don't have me hanging if you want to laugh at me, I have better to do,” he adds with a cheeky voice. 

Jongdae chuckles. He shakes his head. 

“I'm not gonna laugh at you, Baek,” he says. “Go, and say hi to Chanyeol for me.” 

Baekhyun narrows his eyes at him, but to prove him his good faith, Jongdae looks away and walks to his bag, still against the right wall. 

“Okay,” Baekhyun beams. 

He turns around and walks to the door. Jongdae smiles and slowly shakes his head before kneeling before his bag. Something seems to stop Baekhyun just before he walks through the door though, because he stops again and turns toward Jongdae. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, hesitant. 

Jongdae looks up, surprised, and meets Baekhyun's intrigued and concerned eyes. They have a lot in common, actually, because Jongdae also likes to appear weaker than he really is, just to make sure he'll have the upper hand when he'll need it, but also because Baekhyun, just like him, is extremely good at reading people. Jongdae can totally picture him as social butterfly, the kind that never goes unnoticed, not because he does everything he can to draw everyone's attention him, but simple because he's made like that, a little brighter than others. 

But Jongdae knows he can fool Baekhyun just the same though, so he smiles and nods. 

“Yeah. I'm going to pick up some berries for breakfast.” He casts a look at the plank between Baekhyun's hands. “But I suppose you won't want them, am I right?”

Baekhyun chuckles. “Yeah, we'll be fine.”

Jongdae smiles back, and Baekhyun gives him a short nod before pushing the door with his foot. He walks through it without a look back. Jongdae watches the door swaying until it finally closes. He looks down to his bag and opens it, his heart turning into lead in his chest. At least, he thinks, trying to cheer himself up in vain, that's the memory he'll always keep of Chanyeol and Baekhyun. Sharing breakfast when the world is crashing down and burning. It's completely crazy, but it goes with the two of them so well that Jongdae can't stay sad for too long. Those two would have defy Korea and its prejudices if things hadn't completely blown up, and they were clearly ready for it. Seulgi's face suddenly pops up in his head as he realises she would have been like Baekhyun if Joohyun had still been alive. She would have been two instead of one, complete instead of broken. 

Jongdae's smile fades as he pulls out the food stashed in his bag. It's not _his_ food. He wants to leave, not steal Sehun, Baekhyun and Chanyeol. He'll find a house at the end of the night, and most surely some food in it. And walking with a lighter bag on his back will help him be faster, which can't hurt when you're against Oh Sehun. 

Jongdae hides the food in one of the closer trunks, thinking that it'd be less odd, and mostly less alarming. Maybe the excuse he gave Baekhyun will buy him a few hours, and they're too precious for him to be reckless. When he's done, he closes his bag, and his eyes catch the handwriting, faded but still here, on the handle. He runs his thumb along it and finally shakes himself. Without letting anything distract him this time, he puts the bag on his back and heads out. 

Barely five minutes after, his two feet are on the ground, and the ladder to the tree house still sways behind him. Jongdae keeps his eyes on the trees around him, not daring looking over his shoulders. He can't help but think about Soojung, and he wonders if she's still crying for him, if she misses him. He wonders how long it'll take Sehun to get pass his absence, he wonders how long he'll stay alive and what he'll miss in Sehun's life. They're all bound to die sooner or later, future has literally been wiped out of the surface of the Earth, and Jongdae knows it. He's not leaving because he thinks Sehun will be safer without him. He's leaving because the world has grown fangs, and one day, they'll close on Sehun, and Jongdae doesn't want to see it, he doesn't want to live it. He's not strong enough for that, and as odd as it sounds, leaving doesn't really mean he's losing Sehun. If Jongdae goes away, he'll always have hope, a tiny hope that Sehun still jumps from branches to branches somewhere, that his heart still beats, that he still smells faintly like sap. That's honestly all he needs, even more than the feeling of Sehun under his palms. Jongdae just needs him to be alive. 

He adjusts the strap of his bag, and keeps his eyes on the darkness between the trees. The sky is growing darker, the shadows are growing scarier, but Jongdae doesn't slow down. He's nowhere near the knowledge of Sehun when it comes to the woods, but he knows enough to be sure he's heading in the right direction. He tries not to curse at the few bundles of roots he almost faceplants on, and keeps a sustained pace as he zigzags between the trees. The farther he gets from the house, the stronger the sense of urgency washing over him is. He knows Sehun is probably up now. He imagines him getting out of his bed house, squinting his eyes in the darkness to try and find Jongdae. Were Baekhyun and Chanyeol out of their room already? Did Baekhyun tell Sehun he was out to pick berries? Did Sehun believe him...? 

Jongdae glances over his shoulder. He's been walking for an hour and a half now. In a few minutes, he'll reach the border, and then he'll head straight to the village and walk through it before sunrise. He doesn't really fancy the idea of sleeping there because of what happened in the villa, so he'll hope he'll find a house after, which would give him a chance to go even farther away. And then, what? North, to Russia? That's where Seulgi's group is going. Stay in China? He played with the devil once, he won't bet on his chances again. China is Luhan's territory, so no. That's when Jongin's voice pops up in his mind. 

_You'll tell Seulgi, and she'll lead us somewhere else. Probably west, to the European seaside. They were the farthermost countries, they probably had time to organise themselves._

Jongdae chuckles in the silence, slightly shaking his head. He has a brief thought for Yeri's letter, written by a ghost for a ghost, _with love_ , and decides to go for it. West it will be. He's always wanted to see the Eiffel tower after all. 

Jongdae finally stops on the edge of the forest. After the darkness he's walked through, the night outside of the woods looks lighter, more greyish than pitched-black despite the clouds still hiding the moon. 

“Okay,” he whispers to himself. “Let's do it.”

He takes a first step, but immediately freezes when he hears a branch crack behind him. He spins around and pulls out his gun, immediately aiming at the shadows. Another branch cracks, then another one, and another one, but Jongdae doesn't hear moans or jaws clicking despite the fact that it's getting closer. But there _is_ someone walking closer, someone who doesn't seem to care about the noise they're making. That's when it hits Jongdae, and he lowers his gun a split second before Sehun emerges from the night. 

“Hey,” Sehun says with a smile. “Baek told me you wanted to pick berries for our breakfast.”

Jongdae watches him as Sehun glances around him. His eyes finally settle on Jongdae again, and the new smile he flashes him breaks Jongdae's heart.

“But you weren't really planning on picking berries, am I right?”

Jongdae shakes his head. Sehun looks away, looking hurt by the gesture, and Jongdae wants to reach out so bad, but he forces himself not to move. When Sehun's eyes meet his again, they're determined, defying. 

“I'm not letting you leave,” he says. “Where would you go? What would you _do_?”

Jongdae shrugs. “I'll survive.”

Sehun clenches his jaws. 

“It's safe in the tree house,” he retorts. “What will you do out there, Jongdae? Lose more people?”

“I was alone all this time, Sehun,” Jongdae says softly. “I'll be fine.”

Sehun glares at him. 

“No, you won't!” he snaps back, and Jongdae startles at the angry intonations in his voice. 

“Sehun, the nests--”

“I don't care about the nests! That's what is waiting for you if you go, Jongdae! Nests and Infected, and _death_! It's the safest here, and you know it!”

Sehun's anger is like fuel to the fire slowly rising in Jongdae's chest, and when flames finally lick at his heart is when he snaps too. He clenches his fists and glares back, furious. He wasn't expecting Sehun to understand—actually, _yes_ he was. Sehun isn't oblivious, he knows what's going on between them, he knows it so well that not later than the day before, he risked his life because Jongdae was in danger. They're both smarter than that. 

“Let me go,” Jongdae says through gritted teeth. 

Sehun stubbornly shakes his head. Hurt flashes through his eyes, overcoming anger for a split second.

“You weren't even going to say goodbye,” he says, in a lower voice, full of reproaches. 

“Damn it, Sehun!” Jongdae hisses. “Don't you understand?! I can't stay and watch you die! We'll make a mistake sooner or later, and it'll cost us everything! And I do not want that!”

Sehun's gaze hardens, overwhelming. His reaction is immediate: he walks to Jongdae with long and fast strides, and grabs his face with strong fingers Jongdae can't pull away. He barely has time to gasp before Sehun's lips crash against his. They're surprisingly soft, surprisingly light for the intensity Jongdae can still feel in Sehun's clenched fingers, and he whimpers as they dig deeper into his cheeks, Sehun's thumb catching in the smooth skin under his jawline. 

Sehun pulls away. He's towering Jongdae, but the way he looks at him makes Jongdae feels like he's the taller one, the more important one. Sehun's grip on his face loothens until one of his hands slide down to his neck while the other slightly tilts Jongdae's head, so that Sehun can check his cheek. He leans down, and Jongdae holds his breath, his heart beating erratically in his chest, pumping white and red through his veins. When their lips meet this time, it's stronger, faster. Sehun curls his fingers on his neck, and Jongdae grabs his shirt to pull him closer. He whimpers again when Sehun's tongue lingers on his lips, slowly stroking its way in. He catches Sehun's upper lips between his, and can't help but shiver when Sehun shudders against him. 

Sehun's hands let go of him as they fly down to hips. He grabs them and pulls Jongdae up, the latter's feet leaving the ground for a split second, so easily manhandled against the closer trunk. He crashes against it with a soft thud, and Sehun muffles the slight moan leaving his mouth with another kiss, this time deeper and more desperate. Jongdae hurries to slide his arms out of his bag's straps, letting it fall to the side before grabing a handful of Sehun's hair. His back arches off, and Sehun's hand rushes into the space between his skin and the trunk, and closes, like a talon, on his shirt. Jongdae moans, Sehun's fingers scraping his back at the same time his tongue curls around Jongdae's. His whole body is ablaze, days and days of wanting to touch Sehun taking their tolls on him, and now that he has finally given in to the want and the need, he can't seem to be able to stop. He clenches his free hand on the thin material on Sehun's fabric, his fingers almost closing on his collarbone, and he pulls hard on it as Sehun's face slides down his neck, his lips, so hot on him, leaving a trail of kisses behind. Jongdae gulps, lips parted on erratic breathing, and turns his head to give Sehun a better access to the oh so pleasantly sensitive skin of his neck. 

“Sehun,” he pants. “Sehun...”

Sehun's teeth graze his carotid, and Jongdae closes his eyes. 

“I won't let you leave,” Sehun whispers, nuzzling into Jondgae's neck. His fingers loosen around his shirt, and he slowly wraps his arms around Jongdae's waist, bending down to keep his face in the crook of his neck. “I won't.”

Jongdae strokes Sehun's hair before stopping his palm on Sehun's nape. 

“Then bring me back home.” 

Sehun straightens, surprised. He stares at Jongdae, and Jongdae stares back. The night is moonless, yet there is nothing darker than Sehun's eyes, than Sehun's hair. He fills Jondgae's vision in monochromatic colors, white for his skin, silver for his lips, and everything about him echoes in Jongdae's body, from his lashes to the freckles Jongdae can barely make out in the night. He reaches out to Sehun's hips, and clenches his fingers on his shirt. 

“Bring me back home,” Jongdae repeats, his voice breaking.

Sehun nods. He slides his hand under Jongdae's, slowly pulling it away from his shirt to intertwine their fingers. His other hand tilts Jongdae's head backwards, leaving soft touches under his chin, and he leans down to press his lips against, soft, so soft, and so--

 

 

 _Overwhelming_. 

Jongdae clenches his jaw when his back hits the blankets with a soft thud. Sehun's body immediately follows as Sehun climbs on top of him, his hands sliding up Jongdae's sides. Jongdae swallows, shivering, and curls his hands around Sehun's wrists, folliwing the latter's muscles up to his shoulders. Sehun's knee presses harder against his crotch, and Jongdae whines, throwing his head backwards. Sehun swoops down on him, but his lips miss Jongdae's mouth by a few inches, and he finds himself pecking him on the cheek instead. Jongdae lets out a faint chuckle, and Sehun groans. He sits up, straddling Jongdae's hips, and palms the ceiling with hasty gestures. Jongdae doesn't let the darkness engulfing them dig its way between him and Sehun though. He puts his fingers on Sehun's thighs, and slowly make them walk higher and higher. Sehun's sharp hipbones pop up under his index fingers, and Jongdae follows the muscles, mindlessly licking his lips when he reaches the soft hair on Sehun's abdomen. He feels the latter shiver under his touch, then speed up his search of the flashlight. Jongdae smiles to himself, replacing the shadows in his mind with slender lines, taut muscles and a trail of goosebumps following his hands. 

The flashlight goes on with a faint _click!_. Jongdae looks up, squinting to get used to the light. Sehun still has his hand curled around the flashlight, but his eyes are on Jongdae's. Touching was great, but seeing is even better. Sehun's skin is so smooth, so _pale_ that Jongdae catches a few veins here and there. He blinks, heat swelling in his chest, and adrenaline curling his toes. He sits up, slightly groaning with the effort, and crashes his lips against Sehun's. 

Sehun moans, wrapping an arm around Jongdae's shoulder. He lets himself fall backwards, not even reacting when his shoulder hits the flashlight. He bites down on Jongdae's lower lip when he hits the blankets, and Jongdae crashes on top of him. Jongdae puts a hand on the blanket next to Sehun's head and props himself up, his other hand sliding down to Sehun's belt. Both their shirts are lying somewhere in the room, and right now, all Jongdae wants is their pants gone too. Sehun looks as eager as he is, since he bucks up his hips to make it easier for Jongdae, his own fingers already taking care of Jongdae's belt. When Jongdae's fingers graze the skin under the hem of Sehun's underwear, the latter's breath speeds up, and then dies down in the back of his throat. 

Jongdae watches him as he pulls down both his pants and underwear. Sehun holds his gaze, despite how erratic his breathing becomes, his chest going up and down with drawn-out shivers. He's so beautiful under the swaying of the flashlight. Shadows are spreading over his chest, then running away down to his ankles. He's grey and black one second, silver and white the following, chiseled lines then soft edges. His skin is glistening, his lips are swollen by kisses, and Jongdae can never have enough of that sight. He mindlessly licks his lips, and Sehun snaps. His hand shoots up, and he grabs Jongdae by the neck to pull him down and kiss him. His other hand pulls both Jongdae's pants and underwear down before he topples him. 

Jongdae's moan breaks, then dies down when Sehun climbs on top of him again, this time pressing his whole body against him. He moves his hips against Jongdae's, and Jongdae's body answers, following Sehun's in the slightest movement. 

“Jongdae...” Sehun whispers in his ear, his voice hoarse and his breath almost too hot against Jongdae's skin. 

Jongdae slightly nods, clenching his fingers on Sehun's shoulder blades. He turns his head and presses a kiss against Sehun's temple. 

“I know,” he says. “I know...”

His skin his burning, he feels raving, delirious. The light is still swaying over their heads, white and black merging on his retinas. It's hot, too hot, and Jongdae can barely breathe, even less gather enough air to speak. Their hips are rocking back and forth, and the friction is driving him crazy, pushing him off the edge. His eyes close on themselves, and then it's all a chaotic mix of sensations and feelings, fire, explosions, and blood pumping through his veins fast, way too fast. It's all Sehun. Sehun's hands, Sehun's tongue, Sehun's breath, Sehun's body, and it's too much. So much that it eventually breaks Jongdae, but Jongdae has never felt so great. 

He throws his head backwards, and gasps for air, his body tensing and his conscience drowning in blinding white. And Sehun follows him straight into the abyss.

 

 

Jongdae sits up with a gasp, his mind already fighting off the nightmare that woke him up, so much that the more Jongdae tries to remember what it was about, the faster it fades away. The only thing left from the fear is the erratic beating of his heart. Jongdae licks his lips, wincing at their dryness, and clenches a hand on his chest to try and calm his heart. His first reflexe is to squint his eyes at the darkness around him, but he quickly lets it go to reach out and turn on the flashlight. 

Light floods the room, and Jongdae grumbles, looking away to shield his eyes. When he's a little more used to it, after a few blinking, he notices his shirt, crumpled in a corner. With a jolt of his heart, Jongdae looks down and notices only then that he's naked, or actually, _almost_ naked. He still has one leg in his pants. 

Jongdae lets out a small chuckle as he untangles both his pants and underwear. He slips them on, grabs his shirt and pulls it on. Sehun isn't in the room, but Jongdae knew it before he turned on the flashlight. He's pretty sure Sehun would have been curled around him, like it probaby was the case when the younger boy woke up. 

Pictures of the previous night flood Jongdae's mind, successfully erasing the aftermaths of his nightmare. He should have been far right now, after the village, out of Sehun's reach, but Jongdae can't find it in himself to regret what happened. How could he, when he still feels Sehun's fingers on him, his breath, his kisses? They need to talk though, because the fear is still there, lurking, and Jongdae wants a few rules, he wants every precaution possible. 

Jongdae ties his belt, checking both his machete and gun, and finally heads to the door. More than the hunger grumbling in his stomach, he wants to see Sehun. He doesn't feel the need to be reassured, as he's convinced that they shared what happened the night before, meaning that what Jongdae is feeling, Sehun is feeling it too. He just... wants to see him. 

Jongdae opens the door, and once again, he's greeted by the sunset's colorful light. It looks like it's coming straight out of a painter's palette, pink and orange landing smoothly on the deep green of the leaves, red mimicking fire licking the branches and a hint of faded, but velvety blue where the night has already settled. Jongdae considers the surrounding, the woods, so silent, a little bit surprised that it's already the end of the day. He doesn't feel like he's slept that much, but considering the poor amount of sleep he's gotten the two previous nights, he guesses it makes sense. He may have been in the tree house for several weeks now, it still feels odd to him to be able to sleep until his body is fully rested. 

He closes the door behind him, and follows the patio to the stairs. The tree house is plunged in a thick silence, and although it is totally normal for the early hour (or late hour, depends on how you see it), Jongdae can't help but feel uneasy. His nightmare suddenly pops up in his head, and although it's still blurry and confused, it comes with a suffocating sensation of cold and fear. Jongdae scratches the back of his neck, mentally scowling himself. He would have heard it if something had happened, but even though he knows logic is on his side, he can't help but feel like something is off. His stomach knotted, Jongdae jumps over the last steps, and hurries along the main patio. He needs to find Sehun. He's probably at the lake, taking the stones they leave under burning rays of sunlight during the day to warm water when night comes. Lots of stones, Jongdae reassures himself, his voice like a mantra in his head. So both Baekhyun and Chanyeol are probably with him. They only need to be two to carry them in the tree house, but the total absence of sound in the main house is--

Jongdae stops dead in his tracks when he reaches the front door. Under the aggressive last rays of sunshine, it's impossible to mistake the puddle a couple of meters ahead of him. It's darker than the red pourring from the sun, but definitely redder than the black lurking around the forest. It's small, but it's more than enough. Jongdae's heart jumps straight into his throat. 

“No,” he breathes out as he turns on his heels. 

He runs back to the stairs, and hurries back on the patio around Sehun's room. Whose blood was it? There wasn't any body. Nobody screamed. Infected aren't exactly silent or discreet. Jongdae would have heard them. Sleeping in the safety of the three house hasn't made him weak, or reckless. He would have _heard_ them. 

He doesn't stop by Sehun's room, doesn't even spare it a glance as he hurries to the end of the patio and jumps on the rope ladder dangling there. It leads to the food house, in which Jongdae hurries to go. He needs to find Sehun, they need to get the fuck out of here, and fast, before dozens of Infected drag their purulent asses over here. And mostly, Jongdae needs to know it's not Sehun's blood.

He rushes to the window, which is the largest window in the whole tree house. Chanyeol built it so that they can make a large bucket go through it. Said bucket is currently tied to a rope, the rope itself tied to a thick branch just before the window. They use the bucket when they have something really heavy to carry into the food house, and now, Jongdae is going to use it as his ticket out. He could have used the rope ladder, but it would have meant being less than one meter away from the blood, and with what the ferrous smell is attracting, Jongdae couldn't risk it. He grabs the rope and throws it in the void before sliding through the window. He tries to secure his position on the branch, but he's too much in a rush, too nervous, and he loses his balance. Luckily for him, the rope is just there, and Jongdae manages to grab it before he actually falls. He doesn't get to take it correctly though, and even though it does slow him down, the rope burns his palms, bites the flesh of his hands. Jongdae grits his teeth through the pain, but for fear of bleeding, he lets go of the rope when he estimates the distance between him and the ground around three meters. 

He lands with a thud, the shock reverberating through his body in waves. Jongdae curses, a flash of liquid pain going through his ankle, and he loses his balance, falling to the side. That was a bad move, he realises as he tries to move his ankle, only to be rewarded by another wave of pain. 

“Fuck, fuck, fu--” he stops to look up at the trees on the other side of the tree house. He can hear them already, jaws clicking, inhuman screams, they're all getting closer. Jongdae braces himself and gets back on his feet, bitting back a moan when he puts his foot on the ground. 

Something moves in the bushes on his left, and Jongdae startles, his hand immediately flying down to his waist. He pulls out his gun and aims it at the bush. Adrenaline floods him, fighting back the pain and replacing it with anger and determination. Jongdae narrows his eyes at the dense thicket, but it has stopped moving, and nothing comes out of it. Maybe it was a scared animal. Jongdae wouldn't blame it, the ruckus going through the forest and getting dangerously closer is also scaring the living daylights out of him. He'd give anything to call Sehun, but that would be really stupid right now. It could easily do more harm than good. The lake is just a few minutes from here, and Sehun has probably heard the commotion anyway. He's probably heading back to the tree house right now. 

Glancing at the bush one last time, Jongdae finally turns around, and dashes off towards the lake. His first steps aren't easy, with how much he's limping, but the speed makes it easier. The speed, and the adrenaline. The second Jongdae has set off, the noises have started again in the bushes, both branches and sticks cracking, following Jongdae's trail. Jongdae is positive that no scared animal would follow him like that and run in a parallele line to his own trajectory. He doesn't need the certainty anyway, because he's pretty sure he's being hunted. He can feel it, it's choking him, crashing on him, seizing his muscles one after the other. There's a thin layer of cold sweat sliding down his temples now, and fear is making his limp worse, stealing the oxygen away from him. 

Jongdae stumbles on a bundle of roots, and he loses his balance. He lands harshly on the ground, the roots digging into his side, and he whimpers. The closest bush starts shaking, as if it was _laughing_ , and Jongdae shoots at it, red flashing through his eyes. 

“Come out!” he screams at the now motionless shrub. “Come out, or leave me the fuck alone!”

He shoots three more time at it, just for good measure, but nothing happens. His whole body hurting, and fear still clenching on his heart, Jongdae gets on his hands and knees. 

“Sehun!” he yells, desperate. “Sehun?!” 

“Jongdae? Jongdae!”

Jongdae whimpers, out of relief. It's Chanyeol, not Sehun, but it's better than nothing. He looks at the bush, bile flooding his mouth, and a couple of seconds later, Chanyeol emerges from another one on his right. He immediately rushes to Jongdae's side, his eyes wider than usual, and the bun he usually sports messy and dishevelled. Jondgae spots a few leaves caught in it as Chanyeol helps him back on his feet. 

“What happened?” Chanyeol questions, pressing. “Infected are coming our way!"

“Where is Sehun? And Baekhyun?”

Chanyeol points towards the lake with the tip of his knife. “They were at the lake fifteen minutes ago, and I decided to go and see if I could find some mushroams, but then I heard the Infected scream, and—and then it was you and--'

“Blood,” Jongdae cuts him. “There's blood in the tree house. I don't know where it comes from.”

Chanyeol's already livid face goes even paler. He makes to dash off towards the tree house, but Jongdae stops him, throwing his body against Chanyeol's chest. The latter is so much taller, and he doesn't have a fucked up ankle, which makes him very hard to hold back. Jongdae almost loses his balance, but he grips Chanyeol so tight that the latter stumble with him. Luckily for both of them, Chanyeol manages to stay on his feet. 

“It could be Baekhyun!” Chanyeol protests. “Let me go Jongdae!”

Jongdae stubbornly shakes his head. “No! There was no body Chanyeol, no one! They're probably both still at the lake, we need to--” he winces, shifting his weight on his healthy foot. “We need to join them, okay? Trust me, there was _nothing_.”

Chanyeol seems to hesitate a bit, his eyes scanning through the trees, as if he was trying to catch the tree house. He fidgets a little, but the screams, the birds taking off with loud chirping over their heads seem to give him back his senses. He nods, slowly, and then points at Jongdae's ankle. 

“Can you run?”

Jongdae nods. 

“Not as fast as you though, so go ahead. Don't wait for me. Make sure they're safe, okay?” He gives Chanyeol a crooked smile, devoid of any happiness. “And come back to me after.”

Chanyeol nods, and immediately sets off. To his credit, he does try to bring Jongdae with him. He takes the latter's hand and drags him behind him, pulling him hard, but Jongdae can't follow his pace. He stumbles a few times, only avoiding the fall thanks to Chanyeol's hand, but it's only out of luck, and he can see coming the moment where he'll faceplant and break his neck. Or bleed. With a furious hiss, he pulls his hand away. Chanyeol looks over his shoulder with big eyes, and Jongdae gestures at him to keep going. Worry flash through Chanyeol's eyes, then determination, and he nods again, and darts off even faster straight into the trees. 

The peacefulness usually engulfing the woods when the night comes leaves them dry and high tonight. More than the screams and the jaws clicking, it's now the sound of nails scraping wood that fills the forest. Jongdae realises with a shudder than the Infected must have reached the tree house. The blood being six meters above their heads, they must be trying to uproot the trees which, Jongdae has no doubt about it, they will. They're going to destroy the three house, their _home_ , for a few drops of blood. 

Jongdae blinks away the tears gathering in his eyes, furious. He'll be better when he'll see Sehun in flesh, when he'll be sure the latter is safe, and that those few drops of blood aren't his. Chanyeol must have reached them by now, and Jongdae will see Sehun pop out from between the trees any second now. Jongdae holds onto his machete, limping with great difficulty, his whimpers starting to sound more like sobs. 

“Jongdae? Jongdae?!” 

Sehun's voice emerges from the woods like light in a starless night, and Jongdae stops with a gasp of relief. His legs are shaking, and his ankle is terribly painful, but Sehun is alive. He's alive. Jongdae takes in a lungful of air to scream back at Sehun and let him know where he is, but just when the first intonation, not even a syllable yet, goes past his lips, something hits him at full speed. The shock has Jongdae's body flying away, and he lands on his stomach on the hard ground, another bundle of roots taking the air out of him. Terror swoops down on him, like a knife digging through his ribs, as he desperatly tries to breathe in. Something is clicking behind him, like empty shells falling on a stone, and Jongdae whimpers. He grabs the mat of leaves before him and starts crawling, as fast as he can despite the oxygen still refusing to enter his lungs. It's just wishful thinking though, because a pair of hands closes on his ankles, nails like claws digging in his skin, and piercing it so easily. Still out of breath, Jongdae can barely whimper when the Infected raises him and throws him above his head as though Jongdae was nothing more than an old bag. His head hits a low branch, and the pain errupts in white spots all over his vision field. He lands on an abrupt slope, and he starts rolling down before he can even realise it. He's way too disorientated to try and grab something, and once again, he crashes on the ground down the hill. 

Jongdae moans, pain flooding his body. He went through a few bushes, their branches scraping his skin, and he hit a few rocks as well. From how painful breathing is, he's almost sure he cracked a few ribs, not to mention the throbbing pain in his wrist on top of the one in his ankle. What worries him the most though, is the gun he must have let go of when the Infected grabbed him. That, and said Infected rushing down the slope straight towards him, already chewing on the mere idea of turning Jongdae into a feast. 

Jongdae immediately sits up, but the movement sends a new wave of pain through the wound on his temple that almost makes him faint. Dizzy, he struggles to keep his eyes open, and even the Infected jumping over the last meters between them doesn't manage to bring him back to his senses. The monster's body lands on top of him, pinning him down, and Jongdae moans, the pain in his chest turning to a growing fire. The Infected grabs his face and tilts it to have a better view over the wound on his temple. He leans down and starts licking at it, his eager tongue sliding between the edges of the wound, waking up even more pain. 

It finishes to bring back Jongdae, and he pushes the monster away with a disgusted whimper. The Infected lands on his butt, and the look of surprise would be hilarious if Jongdae wasn't the one facing it. He grabs his machete and points it at the Infected as he grits his teeth. The Infected's eyes narrow at the blade, and he opens his mouth to let out an offended scream, green foam dripping down on his chin mixed with Jongdae's blood.

“You disgusting piece of shit,” Jongdae winces. 

The Infected screams a second time, as if understanding the insult, and he shifts on his hands and knees in less than a second. The following one, he's all over Jongdae, but Jongdae was ready. Just when the Infected's open mouth swoops down on his face, he raises his machete, both hands secured around the handle, and he plunges it as far as possible into the Infected's stomach. It goes deeper with a repulsing squeak as Jongdae hunches his shoulders to avoid the jaw clicking above him. The Infected hisses, looking down at the blade in his stomach, looking highly revolted. Knowing that the pus flooding their bodies protects the Infected of bleeding out, hence making such, usually deadly, wounds just merely painful for the monsters, Jongdae fights back the pain in his wrist, and pulls his machete up. The blade easily cut the fragile, sick skin, and as if understanding Jongdae's goal, the Infected starts to fight back. He furiously scrapes Jongdae's face, screaming in outrage. Jongdae closes his eyes to protect them from the hysterical assaults, and keeps pulling up his blade until, finally, the Infected stops attacking him. His body falls dead on top of Jongdae, which can only mean one thing: Jongdae's machete has reached his heart. 

Jongdae pushes the body away, his arms shaking. He can feel the blood on his face, and he knows how dangerous it is for him to stay there, but he finds it difficult to move. His whole body hurts, from his ankle to the throbbing pain in his head, and he's currently uncontrollably shaking. 

“Jongdae?! Jongdae, where are you?!”

Jongdae opens his eyes, immediately reacting to Sehun's voice. It's more distant than the first time he heard it, and the reason why is obvious. The Infected thrown him down a hill, and Sehun is still up there, searching for him. Still shaking, Jongdae sits up, wincing, and turns his head towards the top of the hill. 

“Sehun!” he screams. “Se--”

The rest of Sehun's name dies down in the back of Jongdae's throat as something passes just a few inches from his face, falling from the sky. Intrigued, Jongdae looks down, and his blood immediately freezes in his veins. 

He reaches out, slowly, and closes his fingers around one of the two empty, and very familiar tubes lying on the ground before him. _His_ tubes. He remembers getting his bag back from Seulgi after Jongin's death, and realising someone rummaged through it. He also remembers thinking it was Sehun, but he never actually asked him. He never even mentionned it. He had just completely forgotten. What he hasn't forgotten though, is that those two tubes, the last tubes he had, were full when he lost them. At least, now he can be sure the blood in the tree house wasn't Sehun's. It was _his_.

Jongdae lets go of the tube, his heart surprisingly very slow and calm. He looks up, and when his eyes settle on those, bloodshot, already staring down at him, he holds them, defying. 

So it _was_ the alpha the day before. Jongdae should have known better, especially after the ambush he had set up for him and Yeri at the warehouse. In all honesty, he looks even smarter now, with the faint smirk he's sporting. His lips have been so gnawed that they're almost non existent, chunks of flesh here and there the only reminders left that this man was a plain human being before. In all honesty, the alpha looks like he went through hell and back, his body covered in wounds and scratches Jongdae is almost sure he hadn't when their paths crossed for the first time. He takes pleasure in imagining the alpha got them all while he was franctically searching for him. At least, it was no pleasure cruise for him as well. It's a small consolation prize, but _oh_ how Jongdae values it. 

The alpha crouches down, still perched up in the tree above Jongdae. He's holding himself onto a higher branch, and he looks so confident up there, so comfortable with the heights, when the rest of his kind has never even thought of actually looking up at the trees. Jongdae has flashes of him leading other Infected up the roof, back when he was guarding the street with Soojung, and red fills through his vision. He's done playing, he's done being scared. That asshole has been after him for too long now, and it's time for him to disappear. Jongin died because of _him_. 

Jongdae's eyes harden on the alpha. He raises his hand and flashes his middle finger at the Infected. 

“I hope all those wounds are painful, you asshole,” he hisses. 

The alpha glances at his middle finger, and he groans. Jongdae barely sees him tense his muscles before he jumps off the branch, and Jongdae startles, immediately throwing himself backwards to try and grab his machete, the blade still deep into the other Infected's heart. The alpha wastes no time to jump on him, and his jaw closes on the first thing Jongdae's position gives him, which is his left hip. Jongdae feels the teeth dig through his shirt then the flesh so easily, as if he was as soft as a marshmallow. The pain is excruciating, violent. Jongdae convulses when the alpha's teeth scrape his bone, his scream stuck in the back of his throat, and he closes his fingers around the first thing he can. He throws it against the alpha's temple, and the shock makes the latter falls backwards. Darkness lurking on the edges of his vision, Jongdae has to blink a few times at the thing in his hand to identify it as a stone.

It flies off his hand when the alpha jumps back on him though, and this time, Jongdae manages to scream when teeth close on his shoulder. He hits repeatedly the Infected's head with his other hand to try and have him lets go of him, but the alpha doesn't let go. He even flashes an amused look at Jongdae, as he, honest to god, starts to pur, his tongue licking Jongdae's blood between his teeth. Jongdae starts crying, struggling as hard as he can. He grabs a handful of the Infected's hair and pulls hard on it. It comes off with no resistance, still attached to a small strap of rotten skin, and Jongdae screams as he throws it away. He searches on the ground next to him, eyes wide opened, terrified and bordering on insanity. His fingers close around a stick just when the alpha starts munching the edges of the wound, and Jongdae grabs the stick with a convulsion. He reaches up with another scream, and hammers the stick right in the alpha's eye. The latter jolts up with a pained shriek that sounds like music to Jongdae's ears. 

He manages to pull the alpha off him, the latter trying to pull away the stick with hysterical gestures that only drives it deeper in his eye. Jongdae jumps on him, toppling him over. He grabs another stick and plunges it in the remaining eye of the Infected. The latter screams out of pain this time, and he throws Jongdae away. Even though he's now blind, he's still stronger than Jongdae, so the latter goes flying in the air. He crashes against the trunk, then on the ground, his pained moan turning into a cough, blood flooding his mouth. The ferrous taste has him choking, gaging, until he has to get on his hands and knees to spit it on the dead leaves. Shaking, Jongdae shifts on his knees to take a better look at the alpha. The latter is riggling on the ground, screaming in both rage and pain as he tries to pull away the sticks. At this rate, Jongdae could leave him like that, and sooner or later, the Infected will manager to drive one of the sticks straight into his brain, but it sounds like too much of a favor in his head. That asshole has killed Jongin, and he has chased him until here. The tree house is gone, destroyed because of him, and his little schemes could have had his friends killed. Hell, they could _be_ dead, for all Jongdae knows. No, he won't let him a chance to survive, not a single one. 

Jongdae looks around him, and when he spots a huge rock a few steps ahead, he can't stop himself from giggling madly. He glances at the alpha again, and then proceeds to get back on his feet. His whole body hurts like he never thought it'd be possible to hurt, and he doesn't dare to look at the wounds on his hip and shoulder, the warmth fluid dripping from them enough of an answer for now. It's reaching his knee, covering his chest, but Jongdae will worry about that later. For now, all that matters, is that rock and the strength that he'll need to carry it. 

Jongdae limps his way to it. He looks at the alpha, and then bends down to catch the rock. The effort needed to pull it up has him almost fainting, but he clenches his jaw and shakes the darkness away. He walks back to the alpha and stops next to the latter's face. That idiot has scraped his face trying to pull away the sticks, and even teared apart his skin here and there. Jongdae can spot the bone of his cheekbone through foaming green pus, and it's surprisingly white, surprisingly smooth. 

“Hey asshole,” he says. 

The alpha immediately stops struggling, snaping his head towards Jongdae's with a terrifying precision. The two sticks in his eye sockets seem to be glaring at him, but Jongdae doesn't let it impress him. The Infected opens his mouth wide, flashing his teeth at him. They're red, red with Jongdae's blood. The alpha starts screaming, so angry, so deadly, so--

Jondgae lets the rock fall on the alpha's face, and the scream immediately stops with a disgusting splashing sound.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jongdae grumbles. 

He wincing, staggering backwards as the blood dripping down his leg reach his calf. He finally looks down, expecting the most terrible sight to welcome him, but there's too much blood on his shirt and pants, and it actually keeps him from studying the wound. It felt deep, really deep, when the alpha bit him, but with a good bandage maybe... he'll need one for his shoulder too, and his head. But not here, not now. 

“JONGDAE?!” Sehun's voice echoes through the forest above his head, and Jongdae whimpers. He glances at the machete still burried in the first Infected's chest, and looks away, immediately heading to the slope. He needs to climb up, to Sehun, Baekhyun and Chanyeol. To Sehun. 

“No, no!” Sehun screams up the hill. “Let me go, he's not—we need to look for him!” 

Jongdae freezes. He squints his eyes at the top, and barely manages to hear Chanyeol's voice over the ruckus still going through the forest. He has no idea why other Infected haven't found their way to him yet, and he supposes it might have to do with the alpha. He's pretty sure he told his 'friends' to stay away from him, but now that he's dead... 

It's not the only reason, and totally not the main one, why he's gripping tufts of grass after tufts of grass to help him haul himself up on the slope as fast as he can despite the pain and the dizziness still threatening to take him. No, it's both Chanyeol and Baekhyun's voices, that are too soft for him to catch the words, but also too soft for them to be doing anything else than trying to convince Sehun that he's dead. Jongdae starts crying again when an umpteenth branch break under his weight, making slide down of a few inches. There's dirt in his hip wound, and it stings, it stings so bad, but Jongdae can't stop now, he can't let them take Sehun away. 

Sehun keeps screaming his name, his voice strong, then weaker, more distant.

“Sehun,” Jongdae whimpers, shaking. He closes his eyes, and takes in a lungful of air, gathering his strength. “SEHUN!” he yells as loud as he can. 

The only answer he gets is the distant roaring of an engine. Jongdae snaps his eyes open, his heart skipping a beat. _The car_.

“No, no, no, no,” he moans. He uses a thin trunk next to him to get back on his feet, wincing. Glancing at the few meters separating him from the top of the slope, he grits his teeth and starts running towards it. 

It's oddly liberating to run when your whole body feels like it's going to give up on you any minute now, and for a split second, Jongdae thinks he's running away from the pain, and even outrunning it. It's just an short-lived thought though, because the pain comes back, stronger, and it has him staggering. He loses his balance and falls forwards, but he uses his hands to stop himself from faceplanting. Pushing hard on his palms, he then straightens up and starts running again, determined. The car's engine is still purring, but it doesn't sound like it's growing more distant, and Jongdae has the feeling Sehun is still struggling, still trying to come and look for him. 

“Yes,” he pants. “I'm still alive Sehun, I'm still alive...” 

His left foot catches a bundle of roots, and this time, Jongdae doesn't manage to avoid the fall. He lands abruptly on his stomach, and coughs at the shock, wincing. There's blood in his mouth, so he spits it. He's only a few inches from the top of the slope, but it's enough for him to feel his body starting to slide down. He opens his eyes wide and throws himself forward. His fingers close around a few roots, and Jongdae uses them to finish to haul himself up. He manages to get back on his feet, and rushes towards the road where he knows the car is parked on. 

He speeds up when he hears the doors close a few steps later. He's close, so close. Sehun is there, around the corner. They're going to leave that forest together, leave all those Infected behind and--

Jongdae emerges from the trees at the precise moment the car drives away, and it's so ironic that he stands there, panting and flabbergasted. It takes him a few seconds to realise that the engine's roars are drawing away, and a few more seconds to realise what it means. Jongdae feels himself breaking under the consequences, the realisation that China is huge, and the world huger, and that he'll never manage to find them again. They're gone, Sehun is gone, a day after _he_ wanted to leave because he couldn't bare the idea of losing Sehun. 

Jongdae grabs a stick on the floor and throws it towards the road. 

“I'm alive!” he screams at the darkness replacing the silhouette of the car. 

The car doesn't come back, it doesn't reappear, not even to run him over, and that's a shame, that's a real shame. Jongdae whimpers, falling on his knees, completely lost. He has no idea what to do now, he doesn't even know if there's something _left_ to do. 

“I'm alive,” he starts sobbing, clenching his fingers on the dirt. There's blood on his left hand, blood that comes from his shoulder, and with every drip falling to the ground comes the harsh realisation. He's not strong enough to run after the car, he can't even gather the strength to get back on his feet. 

Jongdae wipes his face with his cleaner hand as he tries to stop the tears from choking him up. 

“Jongdae?”

Jongdae startles. He turns over, and gasps when he sees Sehun standing behind him. His eyes are swollen, red, and his cheeks are wet. He's watching him, dumbstruck and confused, but the faster his eyes go from Jongdae's face to the road, the more livid he becomes. 

“Oh god,” Sehun moans. 

He rushes to Jongdae, his knees hitting the ground with a thud, and he takes him by the shoulders. Jongdae hisses when Sehun's fingers graze his wound and he pulls away, moaning. Sehun freezes as he first glances at his palm, now covered with blood, then at Jongdae's shoulder. 

“You—You're bleeding,” he says. His eyes, still wide and terrified, go from Jongdae's shoulder to his hip, his other hand hovering Jongdae's face, but not daring to touch him. Jongdae can feel them all, the wounds, the scrapes, the _blood_. It's putting down a veil on his eyes, taking his thoughts away from him, but despite how confused he feels, he can still make out Sehun's horrified face as the latter glances at the road again. 

“They're gone,” Jondgae says, his voice breaking. Sehun should have been in the car too, he can see it now. He should have been safe, away from him. He starts crying, painful and hysterical sobs shaking him. 

Sehun throws him a worried look. 

“Hey, hey,” he hushes him. “It's okay, it's okay...” He cups Jondgae's face, and looks at the road again. He looks so scared, so young. It only makes Jongdae cry harder. 

“You're still here,” Jongdae sobs. 

Sehun looks back at him. His lower lip is quivering, and he nods, managing a faint, shaking smile that dies down the second he starts wiping Jongdae's tears away. 

“Of course,” Sehun says with a broken, small voice. His hands are covered with Jongdae's blood now, but it doesn't stop him from wiping his tears. He leaves a trail of red on his own face when tears begin to blind him too. “Of course,” he repeats, sobbing. 

Jongdae lets out a small breath, somewhere between relief and regret, and he chuckles lightly. He feels so weak, so cold, but Sehun is there, holding him, his fingers leaving soft touches on him. He didn't leave, he chose him... 

Jongdae closes his eyes, and lets his head falls forward until his forehead presses against Sehun's shoulder. Sehun wraps his arms around him, and kisses him on the temple, his own sobs echoing Jongdae's cries. He buries his face in the crook of Sehun's neck, and breathes in the scent of sap, and Sehun's natural scent while Sehun's fingers hover over his wounds, shaking. He lets Sehun check up on him, slowly falling into a hazy state of conscience until, at last, Sehun's fingers stop on his jawline and tilt his head for him to have a better look at the wound on his temple. Jongdae looks up through heavy eyelids, slowly smiling when he takes in Sehun's features. He's still as beautiful as ever despite how wrecked he looks. A faint blush has spread on his cheekbones and colored the tip of his nose, and his hair is sticking out on the back of his head. He has the most delicate features, the darkest eyes and the pinkest lips, and grace even radiates from his lashes when he blinks. Jongdae can't help but picture him jumping from branches to branches, his long and slender legs seizing the void and the distance between the trees as if they were nothing. He's the most ethereal thing Jongdae has ever seen, and he's right there, in his arms.

Sehun sniffs as he stares back, and he lets out a long, and shaky sigh. He glances at the forest around them, but this time, his eyes don't linger on the road. He dries his face with his sleeve, and does the same with Jongdae's cheeks, his gestures caring and soft, and terribly determined. 

“Okay,” Sehun says in a whisper. Jongdae looks up at him. His body is pitching, or maybe it's his mind. He's not sure. 

Sehun secures him though, with gentle fingers curling under Jongdae's chin, and he raises his face. Their eyes meet again, and they exchange a look. Sehun leans down and kisses him on the lips, softly. 

Around them, the forest has turned into a giant beast, a monster that screams, bites and breathes, and it feels like the trees are closing in on them, trapping them to make sure they'll still be here when the actual beasts will get to them. They can't hear nor the birds' outraged protests at the noise disrupting their sleep, nor the car over the commotion anymore. Actually, the only thing Jongdae can hear is his own heart, thumping in his ears.

Sehun slips his gun in Jongdae's hand and closes his fingers around the handle. His eyes never leave Jongdae's, not even for a split second, as he takes an arrow out of his quiver and grabs his bow.

“Ready?” Sehun asks him.

Jongdae watches him. He thinks about Jongdeok, about Jongin and Yeri. He thinks about Soojung and Seulgi, and he smiles. It's time to stay. 

“Ready,” he nods.

Sehun gets back on his feet and turns towards the forest, drawing his bow and aiming at the trees. Jongdae watches him for as long as he can, but without Sehun holding him now, he irremediably falls on his side. He faintly smiles and tightens his hold on the gun, raising it barely an inch above the ground with a shaking arm, and aims towards the trees, the screams. 

His fingers in the dirt, Jongdae removes the safety.


End file.
